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We meet England x Reader pt.6
~~~~Many years later and right after the Revolutionary War~~~~
"I do hope he comes home soon I miss him terribly," I said pacing around the house cleaning it for Arthur when he gets home.
"Lass he'll be fine. Yes he lost America but "
"Alfred," I corrected him. Really I wish they would use his real name instead of the country's.
"Fine lassie, Alfred he lost him but he'll get over it soon I promise," He stated at me. Somehow that doesn't make me feel better I mean after Semus, Dalyn, and Ian moved out he was heartbroken, they are still his older brothers but not Alfred he gained his independence and is no longer part of the Kirkland family.
"I just hope that git doesn't come home drunk," I look down sadly at the plushie in my hands that I have almost finished.
BANG BANG THUMP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Ian and I jumped at the noise and run to the front door. Arthur is home!! But he's drunk and laying on the floor. Ian went and helped him up only to have Arthur cry and curse ou
Don't Tell Mummy, Wales..-APH-It was dark.
But, the darkness was the only thing giving Ireland the slightest bit of security.
He didn't know why it did; someone could easily turn on the lights and open the door, and catch him.
But who would? What were the chances? Who would know?
He was trying to calm himself, but thinking about his action; which he knew they were punishable; it made his feel even more nervous. He cleared the troublesome thoughts aside.
He shuffled around, his bright green eyes useless in the pitch black.
Everything he felt was recognizable. The old chests and boxes, caked in dust, books scattered told him he was near the old rotting bookcase in the corner. That's where he wanted to be.
He felt for the keg but couldn't find it. A little frustrated, but still frightened, knowing what he was doing was punishable, he sped up his pace.
Finally he laid hands on it.
Pulling himself to his feet from his knees, he leaned over it and felt for the cork. It was a big barrel, about his height.
I Care [Fem!RomanoXSpain]
WARNING! Strong language
Fem!Romano X Spain
Chiara X Antonio
"You've got issues!"
"What the hell is your problem?!"
"It'll be ok…"
I know that voice…
"I'm just going to leave for a while, ok?"
As that figure walked into the distance all I could do was yell,
"No! Don't leave me!"
Chiara woke up with her heart racing and hand outstretched into nothing. She placed her hand on her forehead, feeling her heartbeat racing, she wondered what she could have been dreaming about.
"Damn nightmares…" Chiara untangled herself out of her sheets and walked downstairs. She went to the kitchen and got a tomato out of the fridge. As she ate her tomato she heard the front door open and close. The sound of footsteps caught her attention.
"Who is it?" Her question was answered when three men came into the kitchen, two of them supporting a Spaniard in the middle. "Damn it." Chiara took Toni from th
"I'll let you have dibs on the front seat of the carriage!"
"I'll give you all of my desserts!"
"I'll do your chores for you!"
The pleading boy hopped on the back of the other boy that he had been following.
"I'll be your best friend ~ " he offered in a sing-song voice.
The irritated Canadian pushed his teasing twin brother off of him.
"I'm not going to teach you any French curse words, Alfred!" he insisted for what seemed like the billionth time that day. "Why would you even want to know something like that?"
"Cause it'd be fun!" the pre-teen America explained. What other reason did he need? "Just imagine it. I could go around bad-mouthing anything I wanted, and no one would have any idea what I'd be saying!"
"Alfred!" Canada exclaimed.
"What? It's not bad when people can't understand you."
"Yes it is!"
"No it's not! The words
Love Sick part 1 Romano x Reader StoryLove Sick Part 1
"God why he is so freakin rude" You shouted angrily slamming the phone back on its cradle. Once again you've experienced another fantastic conversation with the great Lovino Romano Vargas. Then again were you really surprised? The dark haired, tanned Italian young man made his overbearing rudeness known from the first time you met him. Yet you still managed to pathetically fall in love with him.
"I'm so utterly stupid to think that a man like that would ever want to be with me!" Despite his annoying and overbearingly rude nature Lovino Vargas was an attractive man Standing tall and lean, with perfectly proportioned muscles, beautiful olive skin and wonderful caramel- colored eyes you've ever seen. You got lost looking into the swirl of colors, that managed to look deep in your soul and, hold a sacred warmth hidden to many. It made sense that you would become attracted to him. If only he felt the same way.
Shaking such thoughts from your head you drag your aching body,
Princess!ReaderXPoor!England-A Forbidden love CH1
Princess!Reader X Poor!England - A Forbidden Love
A/N: So, this started as a one shot. . . but I fell in love with the storyline and decided to make it a legitimate story. Anyways, this is a birthday gift for AliceCrowleyTheFullMetalKitty! Hope you like it! And I apologize for all of the OOC-ness in this story!
You lay on your bed, silent. It was late morning, and you were bored. All of the same things, the drab curtains, frilly clothes, the cold, unloving, too-absorbed-in-their-work-to-even-care-about-you parents you had. Sick and tired of all that crap. All of the commoners who wished they could be royal like yourself ought to shut up, they don't know what it's really like for nobody to care about them. The poor people were always so kind to each other, putting everyone else before themselves. But life as royalty was cold, unloving and worthless.
All you wanted was to be lo
DenmarkXReader ~Runaway: Prologue~
A thick, driving sense of fear pushed me forwards. I couldn't see where I was going, since a thick layer of fog covered the city like a blanket. Behind me,I could hear the yelling of the person that chased after me.
'Run!!' I thought to myself as I rounded the corner and ran right into someone. I fell back and looked up, but could barely make out what the man in front of me looked like, due the thick fog. But from what I could tell, he was tall, taller than me at least. His hair seemed to defy gravity as it was spiked up on one side. I strained my eyes to get a better look and saw more of his face. I froze as I saw his eyes. He had the most amazing pair of blue eyes that I've ever seen.
However, he looked a little drunk, so I guess he was out partying with some friends. It wasn't really a good time but I couldn't force myself to turn and run away.
But I would have never guessed
Life is but a DreamWe are just unnourished frail bodies,
overfed with white lies and short-lived-euphorias.
Books filled with black letters,
etching lurid images into our utmost dreams.
Veering us from the big picture...
the one we fail to paint ourselves.
Our fists much too busy with fights,
that we are bound to lose.
Too occupied in line waiting,
for creativity to be let loose like a stray dog.
As if we will find home in this pursuit of happiness...
but we only enclose each other in small rooms
with nothing but old laptops.
How many times I've guessed which letter could it be...
Which letter could it be?
To free us from havoc-stricken-thoughts?
They come and go, unending like 24 hour subway stations.
There's no break for this lonely man,
heaving every breathe of stale air
into my overused lungs...
Living in confined walls of flesh
held up with brittle paper-mache bones.
Which day is it that I will burst out from this cage of a life?
And hover with the Gods found in carefully binded bo
Blood BrothersBrookie always holds my hand when we cross the street. She's never given a reason for it, she just does it. It's become this unspoken rule with us that whenever we cross the street together, she slips her hand in mine and I lace my fingers through hers and we walk hand-in-hand until we reach the other side and she drops her hand and we both wipe our palms on our jeans. Brookie's a little scared of crossing the street. Her poppa died in a car crash when we were six. He was a pedestrian. She's never gotten over it.
Brookie is my best friend going on sixteen years now, which is pretty impressive considering we're both sixteen. We don't have some cute little story about how we were born in the same hospital on the same day or about how our mothers were best friends long before they were pregnant with us and somehow passed on that bond while we were still in utero. No, Brookie and I met the same way ever
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