Hold Me Close [10/?]
anonymous
May 4 2009, 20:27:19 UTC
England is sitting, he's waiting on the couch, and peers out the window. The scenery looks different to him; he hasn't seen it in so long, it looks alien to him. All he's even been seeing were the chains, bloody and cold hard floor, white mixed with red. It wasn't exactly a pleasant sight, so England didn't mind the current view, though to be honest in his current state, he probably didn't care where he was.
As long as it didn't involve sharp knives, chains, anything torture method of the sort.
“Hey, England!” The sandy haired nation slowly turns to the source, and it's America; “Enjoying the view? Actually, do you want to go outside?” England doesn't answer. He isn't sure; were they knives out there? Were they going to hurt him?
“I own this house and the area around it, so it's no problem!” America winks as he speaks, “I have a nice little table outside, so we can sit and talk there! Oh, or if you like trees, I have a nice tree from Japan, pretty cherry blossoms...” America muses on where to go, while England watches him blankly.
Trees and tables... it doesn't sound dangerous. The guy looks unarmed too; all he has was a big white T-shirt and blue jeans. England doesn't dispel the thought that he might get killed anyway. Brute force is something very probable, but he does not object.
He's scared of saying his opinion. All he recalls when he says his thoughts are being beaten for it, raped, and before he knows it, he's trembling, his brows furrow and America pauses; “England? Hey, England!” he says, trying to grab his attention.
His hand reaches out to shake his shoulder, but it stops; You can't touch him. It rings in America's head, but what can he do? England's shaking, he needs to grab his attention and... “Look, no one's going to hurt you. If you want, we can just stay inside for today. Maybe we'll go out another day when you want to.”
England's shaking comes to a stop, and he slowly, fearfully looks up; he expects piercing eyes that are really justify the phrase, “Looks can kill,” but soft blue eyes meet his dull green and a warm smile reflects his partly open mouth, and it is nothing like Russia.
“Just sit down and let me talk, okay?” America says, and he walks across the coffee table and onto the couch, directly across from England.
“So, what's your name?” He asks, and England blinks, wary, but does not answer. America says nothing and waits patiently, before he jokingly says, “You know, when someone asks something, you're supposed to answer.”
The words, the words he can understand, “You ungrateful ingrate. When I ask you something, I'm not asking for an answer, I'm demanding one, so out with it,” the words are dripping with venom and hate and the lips which it comes from curl into a smile and they kick his gut and step on his head, and England finds himself flinch at America's words.
The young nation frowns for a moment, but forces a smile for England; “I... I don't have one... sir.” England says meekly, and he's looking down, and America... America shakes his head, he forces his smile again.
“It's okay! I'll give you one then; from now own, your name's Arthur Kirkland, okay?” America announces, and England only nods; he nods because is scared if he says no, or if he questions his new name.
America feels frustrated inside; is he scaring England? The guy's only been agreeing or doing whatever it takes to cause America less trouble... then again, knowing Russia, figures it'd happen; “Also, sir is no! I don't want that special jazz; just call me Alfred, okay?” England nods again.
“... Hey. Are you really okay with your name? With what you're calling me? You know, you could just call me stupid, git, whatever...” But England shakes his head. Last time he called someone something like those, he wound up with a stomach covered in white and his shaking and the pain and they went too fast... and...
America wants to hold England, kiss him, say it's going to be okay... but it's not going to be okay, because America knows he's getting to England's heart just a little, repairing it slowly, but it's working, but... he doesn't know if one day, it'll just fall apart again.
Re: Hold Me Close [10/?]
anonymous
May 4 2009, 20:32:55 UTC
[A/N: NOTES HERE CAUSE I FAIL AND DIDN'T HAVE ENOUGH SPACE IN THE ABOVE POST. ;AAA;
But thank you gaiz so much. <333 I-I'm so honored you all like it so much LOL;;; I was worried someone might yell at me for not writing well nuff. or something.
Also, I was working on what each installment of this story will be about, and so far. it should be at least 19 parts long, oh God. ;AAA;'' y/n, gaiz? And no, that's not even the endddd.
AND. AND AND. oh crap I forgot what I wanted to sa-- OH YEAH. Sorry for like, filler part here. ;AA; I planned to make this more fluff. but GOD I didn't realize how HARD it is to make fluff when the couple. can't touch each other. -sobbbbb- Hopefully I'll have more installments with snuggle fluff when I get England to stop being. so paranoid. >A<'''
Also, curious, gaiz, I'm only considering it, but some future smexy tiem = y/n? I thought it might be interesting since here's England, having gotten raped, and he's gonna wind up having smut time with America, hahaha;;;.
and tbh. idk about you. but. I ALWAYS LOVE SMUT TIME HAHAHA;;;. yes i fail.
Re: Hold Me Close [10/?]
anonymous
May 5 2009, 01:31:50 UTC
I say YES to long story! I say YES to sexy tiems! (And...and caring and fluffy and sweet and romantic too right because poor baby England needs some real loving...? XD)
As long as it didn't involve sharp knives, chains, anything torture method of the sort.
“Hey, England!” The sandy haired nation slowly turns to the source, and it's America; “Enjoying the view? Actually, do you want to go outside?” England doesn't answer. He isn't sure; were they knives out there? Were they going to hurt him?
“I own this house and the area around it, so it's no problem!” America winks as he speaks, “I have a nice little table outside, so we can sit and talk there! Oh, or if you like trees, I have a nice tree from Japan, pretty cherry blossoms...” America muses on where to go, while England watches him blankly.
Trees and tables... it doesn't sound dangerous. The guy looks unarmed too; all he has was a big white T-shirt and blue jeans. England doesn't dispel the thought that he might get killed anyway. Brute force is something very probable, but he does not object.
He's scared of saying his opinion. All he recalls when he says his thoughts are being beaten for it, raped, and before he knows it, he's trembling, his brows furrow and America pauses; “England? Hey, England!” he says, trying to grab his attention.
His hand reaches out to shake his shoulder, but it stops; You can't touch him. It rings in America's head, but what can he do? England's shaking, he needs to grab his attention and... “Look, no one's going to hurt you. If you want, we can just stay inside for today. Maybe we'll go out another day when you want to.”
England's shaking comes to a stop, and he slowly, fearfully looks up; he expects piercing eyes that are really justify the phrase, “Looks can kill,” but soft blue eyes meet his dull green and a warm smile reflects his partly open mouth, and it is nothing like Russia.
“Just sit down and let me talk, okay?” America says, and he walks across the coffee table and onto the couch, directly across from England.
“So, what's your name?” He asks, and England blinks, wary, but does not answer. America says nothing and waits patiently, before he jokingly says, “You know, when someone asks something, you're supposed to answer.”
The words, the words he can understand, “You ungrateful ingrate. When I ask you something, I'm not asking for an answer, I'm demanding one, so out with it,” the words are dripping with venom and hate and the lips which it comes from curl into a smile and they kick his gut and step on his head, and England finds himself flinch at America's words.
The young nation frowns for a moment, but forces a smile for England; “I... I don't have one... sir.” England says meekly, and he's looking down, and America... America shakes his head, he forces his smile again.
“It's okay! I'll give you one then; from now own, your name's Arthur Kirkland, okay?” America announces, and England only nods; he nods because is scared if he says no, or if he questions his new name.
America feels frustrated inside; is he scaring England? The guy's only been agreeing or doing whatever it takes to cause America less trouble... then again, knowing Russia, figures it'd happen; “Also, sir is no! I don't want that special jazz; just call me Alfred, okay?” England nods again.
“... Hey. Are you really okay with your name? With what you're calling me? You know, you could just call me stupid, git, whatever...” But England shakes his head. Last time he called someone something like those, he wound up with a stomach covered in white and his shaking and the pain and they went too fast... and...
America wants to hold England, kiss him, say it's going to be okay... but it's not going to be okay, because America knows he's getting to England's heart just a little, repairing it slowly, but it's working, but... he doesn't know if one day, it'll just fall apart again.
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But thank you gaiz so much. <333 I-I'm so honored you all like it so much LOL;;; I was worried someone might yell at me for not writing well nuff. or something.
Also, I was working on what each installment of this story will be about, and so far. it should be at least 19 parts long, oh God. ;AAA;'' y/n, gaiz? And no, that's not even the endddd.
AND. AND AND. oh crap I forgot what I wanted to sa-- OH YEAH. Sorry for like, filler part here. ;AA; I planned to make this more fluff. but GOD I didn't realize how HARD it is to make fluff when the couple. can't touch each other. -sobbbbb- Hopefully I'll have more installments with snuggle fluff when I get England to stop being. so paranoid. >A<'''
Also, curious, gaiz, I'm only considering it, but some future smexy tiem = y/n? I thought it might be interesting since here's England, having gotten raped, and he's gonna wind up having smut time with America, hahaha;;;.
and tbh. idk about you. but. I ALWAYS LOVE SMUT TIME HAHAHA;;;. yes i fail.
oh my, this was long. :DD]
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Dammit. Hug! OTL Hug...
19 parts? OAO Not even the end? Wow! I can't wait. ♥
YES YES for smexy time. \(^o^)/
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