This is anon's first attempt at completing a fill and anon is a bit nervous. I hope it's to the OP's liking. The alarm went off and England felt the beginnings of a throbbing headache. He groaned low in his throat and peeled his face off the pillow, blinking a few times and shooting his hand out to grope blindly to switch the alarm off. He hit America’s chest, who grunted and went back to pretending he wasn’t awake. Mumbling words under his breath England pushed himself up and leaned over America’s supine form before switching the alarm off and flopping down onto America. America grunted but otherwise did not move
( ... )
Re: Misplaced Soil | USUK | 9/?
anonymous
April 29 2010, 19:22:22 UTC
“England,” he said, stressing the name. England frowned at him.
“Stop this at once, I need to get to my meeting.”
“If you go there, then you can’t make plans to leave me alone in that fucking desert, so I’m not leaving you leave this bathroom,” America said firmly.
“You’re being ridiculous, America,” England said. “You must understand-it’s a trial on my country and I-”
“What do you mean it’s a ‘trial’? You don’t think it’s a pain in the ass for me, too? If you leave now then what the fuck am I supposed to do?”
“That isn’t really my problem, America-”
“But-dude! You can’t do this to me!” America insisted, still not moving from the doorway. “You and me-we’re a team. The Special Relationship!”
England scoffed, not looking at him. “Oh, yes. Of course.”
“You and I-we gotta look out for each other.”
“Just like you look out for me?” England snapped back. “Or does the Special Relationship only apply when you can get something from it?”
“What-”
“America,” England said gravely, “Move. I need to get to my meeting
( ... )
Misplaced Soil | USUK | 10/?
anonymous
April 29 2010, 19:22:55 UTC
“Easy for you to say!” England shouted, choked slightly. “Maybe I should have done something instead of just letting myself and my administration act as your little lapdog and your constant booty call whenever the fuck you damned well pleased! Maybe if we hadn’t been so busy sucking your precious dick my country wouldn’t be in such a mess-if we’d just refused and ignored your selfish, fucked up whims you would have been alone and we really could have just fucking isolated you from doing stupid things!”
America stared at him and didn’t shoot back with a lofty comeback as England had half expected. Instead he just stared at England a moment, his face contorted in rage, before he turned his face away.
“Oh.”
It was in that moment that England knew he’d said too much.
“It’d be much better if my administrations could focus on Europe than on being your little sidekick, at your whim to be played with,” England said and secretly hated himself for saying even morewhen he didn’t need to.America didn’t say anything right away, his
( ... )
Misplaced Soil | USUK | 11/?
anonymous
April 29 2010, 19:24:00 UTC
“So get outta here. You clearly just want to isolate me anyway, right? Fuck you.”
“That isn’t what this is about-”
“I don’t care. Try not to get run over by a car out there, you asshole.”
England ruffled up. Fine then. if America wanted to be that, England could play that game. He sneered at him, whipped his head away and grumbled low under his breath.
“Fine,” England snapped. “Heaven knows I can’t stand being under the same roof as you right now-”
“Then leave!” America shouted.
England stomped from the room and half-expected, half-hoped, that America would follow after him. But he didn’t. He didn’t.
England ducked his head, fought back the ridiculous urge to cry or to turn around and apologize truly this time.
Instead he glanced over at the kitchen as he stomped his way to the front door. He opened the door and before shutting it with a loud slam he shouted, glad his voice didn’t crack:
Re: Misplaced Soil | USUK | 11/?
anonymous
April 29 2010, 23:08:05 UTC
This is all kinds of amazing. Especially in the way you're taking such a vague prompt and incorporating it, quotes and all, into a story which has taken an entirely different direction!
And uh... did you just finish a rather long fill involving ghost dogs and Colin Firth...?
Re: Misplaced Soil | USUK | 11/?
anonymous
May 1 2010, 09:33:05 UTC
No tomatoes for you, anon. Except maybe in sauce form, with pasta, because you've just made it from cute to awesome. Been wanting a fic to address the things you have here, so: *applause*
... but I'm holding you to that Happy Ending, ok? (=_=)b
Misplaced Soil | USUK | 12/?
anonymous
May 1 2010, 20:09:28 UTC
Fighting was normal in a healthy relationship-England knew that. But England also knew that it probably wasn’t healthy to go from one extreme to the other in his relationship with America: wanting to coddle the little bastard one moment and then wanting to smash his face in. It was probably also unhealthy how many times England found he wanted to smash America’s face in on a regular basis
( ... )
Misplaced Soil | USUK | 13/?
anonymous
May 1 2010, 20:10:28 UTC
But no, in England’s mind eye, he could see the papers sitting in their silly manila folder precariously and perfectly innocently on the kitchen table in America’s apartment
( ... )
Misplaced Soil | USUK | 14/?
anonymous
May 1 2010, 20:11:20 UTC
“Forgot these,” England said, snatching up the papers and waving it over his shoulder before clicking open his briefcase and slipping the papers inside.
“Oh, the details for how you’re going to just abandon me?”
“Can we not talk about this, please?” England said with a sigh. “And for your information, that is not what these papers are for.”
“Whatever, England.”
“America,” England said calmly, closing his briefcase and straightening, already moving towards the front door again. “Stop behaving like a child.”
“Only if you stop behaving like a Grade A Douchebag,” America protested, in what was, naturally, an incredibly childish manner.
England rolled his eyes, slipped his fingers through his hair, and sighed. “I’m not. If you would just think for once in your life, you would realize
( ... )
Misplaced Soil | USUK | 15/?
anonymous
May 1 2010, 20:13:11 UTC
He knew that America cared-it was impossible to forgot the way those blue eyes looked at him as he bent over England (impossible baby blue). Impossible to forget the soft touch of hands smoothing over the bruises he left (apologetic, trying so hard to curb his strength), impossible to forget the soft touch of his lips to his (for good luck, for good bye, for hello again). Impossible to forget those moments when he bent his laws for him, when he found a way to always fly back to him even when his people said no (soft hands wrapping bandages around him, quiet lips brushing over his sweating forehead, the softly whispered words that America was always too proud to admit to saying the next morning
( ... )
Re: Misplaced Soil | USUK | 15/?
anonymous
May 1 2010, 20:24:07 UTC
... hmmmm I think I might know who you are, anon~ (And if I'm right, I think you should deanon once this is done! And even if I'm wrong, it'd still be great to know the awesome person who's writing this!)
This installment was great. Don't be so hard on yourself. Can't wait for more.
This is anon's first attempt at completing a fill and anon is a bit nervous. I hope it's to the OP's liking. The alarm went off and England felt the beginnings of a throbbing headache. He groaned low in his throat and peeled his face off the pillow, blinking a few times and shooting his hand out to grope blindly to switch the alarm off. He hit America’s chest, who grunted and went back to pretending he wasn’t awake. Mumbling words under his breath England pushed himself up and leaned over America’s supine form before switching the alarm off and flopping down onto America. America grunted but otherwise did not move ( ... )
Reply
“Stop this at once, I need to get to my meeting.”
“If you go there, then you can’t make plans to leave me alone in that fucking desert, so I’m not leaving you leave this bathroom,” America said firmly.
“You’re being ridiculous, America,” England said. “You must understand-it’s a trial on my country and I-”
“What do you mean it’s a ‘trial’? You don’t think it’s a pain in the ass for me, too? If you leave now then what the fuck am I supposed to do?”
“That isn’t really my problem, America-”
“But-dude! You can’t do this to me!” America insisted, still not moving from the doorway. “You and me-we’re a team. The Special Relationship!”
England scoffed, not looking at him. “Oh, yes. Of course.”
“You and I-we gotta look out for each other.”
“Just like you look out for me?” England snapped back. “Or does the Special Relationship only apply when you can get something from it?”
“What-”
“America,” England said gravely, “Move. I need to get to my meeting ( ... )
Reply
America stared at him and didn’t shoot back with a lofty comeback as England had half expected. Instead he just stared at England a moment, his face contorted in rage, before he turned his face away.
“Oh.”
It was in that moment that England knew he’d said too much.
“It’d be much better if my administrations could focus on Europe than on being your little sidekick, at your whim to be played with,” England said and secretly hated himself for saying even morewhen he didn’t need to.America didn’t say anything right away, his ( ... )
Reply
“That isn’t what this is about-”
“I don’t care. Try not to get run over by a car out there, you asshole.”
England ruffled up. Fine then. if America wanted to be that, England could play that game. He sneered at him, whipped his head away and grumbled low under his breath.
“Fine,” England snapped. “Heaven knows I can’t stand being under the same roof as you right now-”
“Then leave!” America shouted.
England stomped from the room and half-expected, half-hoped, that America would follow after him. But he didn’t. He didn’t.
England ducked his head, fought back the ridiculous urge to cry or to turn around and apologize truly this time.
Instead he glanced over at the kitchen as he stomped his way to the front door. He opened the door and before shutting it with a loud slam he shouted, glad his voice didn’t crack:
“And for fuck’s sake, buy an electric kettle!”
/hides from thrown tomatoes ( ... )
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And uh... did you just finish a rather long fill involving ghost dogs and Colin Firth...?
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And hee, no this is anon's first time posting to the kink meme (though not my first time writing the pairing).
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Oh my God, please fix this! DDDD:
although I love their insults...
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... but I'm holding you to that Happy Ending, ok? (=_=)b
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“Oh, the details for how you’re going to just abandon me?”
“Can we not talk about this, please?” England said with a sigh. “And for your information, that is not what these papers are for.”
“Whatever, England.”
“America,” England said calmly, closing his briefcase and straightening, already moving towards the front door again. “Stop behaving like a child.”
“Only if you stop behaving like a Grade A Douchebag,” America protested, in what was, naturally, an incredibly childish manner.
England rolled his eyes, slipped his fingers through his hair, and sighed. “I’m not. If you would just think for once in your life, you would realize ( ... )
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(And if I'm right, I think you should deanon once this is done! And even if I'm wrong, it'd still be great to know the awesome person who's writing this!)
This installment was great. Don't be so hard on yourself. Can't wait for more.
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♥
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