http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/10960.html?thread=20402896#t20402896 Original request. I didn't use one from the possible new states list, but one that was somewhat a state that failed quickly.
England had never felt the need to run back to his own country so badly as he did that one morning. There was no way he could face America after what he did. Edmund Andros had taken him out to drink and that they did. He went on and on about his new idea, the Dominion of New England. And England loved every word of it. Less trouble managing the colonies if they were all one big group, right?
And in his drunken haze England had gone back to America's home, only to find the boy curled up in his bed, as if he had a nightmare and was seeking England’s protection without him there. The thoughts running through his head from his intoxicated stupor were absolutely vile and despicable, yet he couldn’t resist crawling into his bed and pulling the boy close, eliciting a startled gasp from the boy.
“E-England! You’re b-back!” America had squirmed in his grasp, obviously worried about what the drunk man was thinking.
“‘course I ish. Couldn’t leave mah beaut’ful little Americah all alones now could I?” England purred, nuzzling the boy’s neck. The words of Edmund Andros still rang in his ears. An easy way to rein in the colonies. Just make one to rule them all. A dominion with America of a New England. It was the greatest plan that had ever been discussed involving his precious ward.
“England, you reek.” America shivered, eyes darting across the room in a bit of a confused panic.
“‘s the alcohol, but ‘s a great thing ya know.” England sighed as he let go of America and sat up on the bed to look him over. He adored this boy more than anything. His skin was so dark from the sun you’d believe he could shine brighter than it at will and mixed with his gorgeous blue eyes that were absolutely shimmering right now (In worry, but of course England didn’t pick up on that key fact) he was absolutely breath-taking. And here he was, in his bed of all places.
“England…?” America shifted uncomfortably, obviously confused by the looks he was getting.
“I love ya, ya know that, right?”
“I know that, brother.” America spat the last word, face locked in a frown. England held back the need to laugh. That whole façade about being brothers had outlasted it’s welcome.
“Not brothers.” England whispered seductively near America’s ear. “Nay, I want so much more, mah beaut’ful, precioush, wonderful Americah.”
“E-England?” America turned to look up at him, blue eyes searching for a trace of a lie across England’s face. But the Briton was giving his heart and soul to the boy and as he pulled him up into a passionate kiss, America melted into it, seemingly ready and more than willing to give England his all. Looking back to the drunken slurs and the kisses stolen, England felt nauseous. He had taken the boy’s most valuable possession. His innocence.
When England awoke the next morning with a pounding head, he had nearly screamed in terror when he found the younger man’s limbs twined around his own with his face buried in the crook of his neck, innocent face smiling serenely in his sleep. England untangled himself and ran from the house as fast as his nimble legs would take him to the shore, where he boarded the very first ship back home.
After cursing himself and that night with everything he had during the two months on the ship, England couldn’t get his mind off of finding a way to apologize. He knew nothing he did would ever make up for such a heinous thing, but he couldn’t just leave the boy alone and probably confused and scarred after such a thing. So once he arrived back in his country, he got on the ship that was leaving that day to sail back to America. The poor child probably had so many thoughts going through his mind that England wasn't there to answer. He couldn't allow such a thing to happen to him.
The Dominion [1/5]
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England had never felt the need to run back to his own country so badly as he did that one morning. There was no way he could face America after what he did. Edmund Andros had taken him out to drink and that they did. He went on and on about his new idea, the Dominion of New England. And England loved every word of it. Less trouble managing the colonies if they were all one big group, right?
And in his drunken haze England had gone back to America's home, only to find the boy curled up in his bed, as if he had a nightmare and was seeking England’s protection without him there. The thoughts running through his head from his intoxicated stupor were absolutely vile and despicable, yet he couldn’t resist crawling into his bed and pulling the boy close, eliciting a startled gasp from the boy.
“E-England! You’re b-back!” America had squirmed in his grasp, obviously worried about what the drunk man was thinking.
“‘course I ish. Couldn’t leave mah beaut’ful little Americah all alones now could I?” England purred, nuzzling the boy’s neck. The words of Edmund Andros still rang in his ears. An easy way to rein in the colonies. Just make one to rule them all. A dominion with America of a New England. It was the greatest plan that had ever been discussed involving his precious ward.
“England, you reek.” America shivered, eyes darting across the room in a bit of a confused panic.
“‘s the alcohol, but ‘s a great thing ya know.” England sighed as he let go of America and sat up on the bed to look him over. He adored this boy more than anything. His skin was so dark from the sun you’d believe he could shine brighter than it at will and mixed with his gorgeous blue eyes that were absolutely shimmering right now (In worry, but of course England didn’t pick up on that key fact) he was absolutely breath-taking. And here he was, in his bed of all places.
“England…?” America shifted uncomfortably, obviously confused by the looks he was getting.
“I love ya, ya know that, right?”
“I know that, brother.” America spat the last word, face locked in a frown. England held back the need to laugh. That whole façade about being brothers had outlasted it’s welcome.
“Not brothers.” England whispered seductively near America’s ear. “Nay, I want so much more, mah beaut’ful, precioush, wonderful Americah.”
“E-England?” America turned to look up at him, blue eyes searching for a trace of a lie across England’s face. But the Briton was giving his heart and soul to the boy and as he pulled him up into a passionate kiss, America melted into it, seemingly ready and more than willing to give England his all. Looking back to the drunken slurs and the kisses stolen, England felt nauseous. He had taken the boy’s most valuable possession. His innocence.
When England awoke the next morning with a pounding head, he had nearly screamed in terror when he found the younger man’s limbs twined around his own with his face buried in the crook of his neck, innocent face smiling serenely in his sleep. England untangled himself and ran from the house as fast as his nimble legs would take him to the shore, where he boarded the very first ship back home.
After cursing himself and that night with everything he had during the two months on the ship, England couldn’t get his mind off of finding a way to apologize. He knew nothing he did would ever make up for such a heinous thing, but he couldn’t just leave the boy alone and probably confused and scarred after such a thing. So once he arrived back in his country, he got on the ship that was leaving that day to sail back to America. The poor child probably had so many thoughts going through his mind that England wasn't there to answer. He couldn't allow such a thing to happen to him.