Englands P.O.V.

Have you ever gotten the feeling that you're being watched. I don't mean like watched and judged, that I'm sure you feel everyday in school, or work or whatever it is you do with your life (reading fanfiction?) I mean watched when you're certain you're alone. At home, in the empty changing rooms, getting out of the shower. It's... maddening.

I suppose I should say it started one day when I was walking home. My country, being my country, it was raining. My people, being my people, one of them was bound to forget their umbrella, so as a precaution I carry an extra one (the NHS is under a lot of pressure already, they don't need an extra, foolish person with a case of pneumonia.) I saw a young girl in her teens- where in her teens I can't be sure, I wasn't paying that much attention to her and given her youth decided that she was probably only umbrella-less from nativity more then anything else.

Biggest mistake of my life.

I mean I've made some horrible decisions in my time as England, but, none of them had this sort of repercussion. I would rather face Ireland in rainy guerilla warfare then have this situation. I've even asked her to dispel the stalker in the way that Ireland can do things (kill the girl and hide her body in a bog not to be found for hundreds of years), of course she refused, laughed and walked away.

I loath this existence I have been faced with... a strange girl with a H/C ponytail and E/C eyes has been following me around for more then a month. I can't stop thinking about it. Her. She's everywhere, a constant in the back of my mind and I can't escape it. I haven't slept right in weeks. I don't even know her name. I don't want to know her name.

So why am I writing this now? Firstly, I am terrified of for my life, secondly I want someone to know what happened and thirdly, the more I write the more time I may have left.
"That's not very nice things you've written Arthur," now I'm writting the current moment as in the present, as in the right now of my life. The girl is standing behind me, knife far to close to my neck for me to ever be comfortable (I've had easier times with Belarus)
"That's just mean, hey stop writing what I'm saying!" S**t she's taking my pen.

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Readers P.O.V.

It was a really wet day when I first met him, I had left my umbrella on the tube and was walking along Londons streets when a kind stranger gave me an umbrella. Such an act of kindness on such a whim... It made my day.

I later found out he lived in the same building as me. We were in the lift together, and I returned the umbrella.

"Thanks Love,"
"Your welcome."

No one had ever called me love before. I was so happy with that, he must have liked me. People only call you love when they like you, write?

Over the next month, we bumped into each other over and over again. I learned that his name was Arthur and that he worked in politics. Yet their were moments that I felt I knew him more.

One day, Arthur invited me into his apartment block, he decided, since we kept bumping into one another that it was time we got to now each other more. he seemed like a good well mannered and trustable sort, so I went with him.

Best choice ever!

Today were married and live together. It's a happily ever after with great sex and loads of romance. I couldn't ask for more.

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3rd person view

The young blonde man was trembling in his seat as the shadowy figure stood too close to him. "Come with me now and we make the story so... To X reader land!"