Seventeen

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Hey guys! This fic is far from over, but I need to start planning the next one! I'm going to let you guys chose from these vague prompts I ripped from my idea book so that the story I write is a total surprise. You have until I get attached to one which could take a while. Most of these will be written anyway if I'm still alive lol. Don't do college kids ;). Here are your options! Get ready!

Pictured: Fake married AUAngsty Maid AUReal Wedding-FrUKAngsty Ghost SexWho is the Father? (Prucan/nedcan/Ruscan)

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Pictured:
Fake married AU
Angsty Maid AU
Real Wedding-FrUK
Angsty Ghost Sex
Who is the Father? (Prucan/nedcan/Ruscan)

And if that doesn't help, here are some first lines!

And if that doesn't help, here are some first lines!

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I don't feel like typing them up again. You're on your own offline users!

When Matthew woke up he was on a pile of old sheets in Gilbert's garage, between his car and the concrete wall. His body was damp and he was freezing. He tried to stand up, but there was a metal shackle around his ankle, its chain attached to a hook on the floor.
The previous night came back to him and he let out a wail.
Gilbert didn't love him.
All those little things, those gentle smiles, taking him shopping and kissing him and curling up on the back porch with him.
They were all lies.
Everything Matthew had felt was a trap.
He wanted to throw up. His body was rejecting his stomach and his heart. He felt like he had a chainsaw running through his chest.
He started to sob, unable to stop for breath, not even when Gilbert shoved open the door between his home and the garage, face stern.
"Vhat are jou crying about? I gave jou every chance to get out. It's jour own fault Jou're stuck here."
Matthew held his breath, trying not to make a noise. He rolled over so he wouldn't have to face the man who broke his heart.
"I'm making food in a few hours. Is zhere anyzhing jou vant to tell me? Like who jou vork for?"
"Nn." Matthew pulled himself into a tighter ball. He didn't have the energy to speak.
"Fine. Jou can starve Zhen."
The German stormed back into the house, leaving Matthew in a shattered heap. He didn't care if he didn't get to eat. He had gone to bed hungry so many times at the agency. How was this different? How was any of this different?
Back at the agency he was locked away for saying aboot, he was scorned for talking about Canadian wildlife, and beaten for humming the hockey song. When his teachers taught American history, he was withheld meals because he refused to admit that America won the Cold War and when he tried to tell them that Alexander Graham Bell said his true home was in Cape Breton.
Baseball, basketball, apple pie...
All of it was made by his people. But they tried to brainwash him to think otherwise.
So maybe this place was still better than the agency. But it was just as draining.
If he hadn't been looking for documents to continue with their plans, if he had just met Gilbert by chance in a grocery store or through Francis, maybe things would be better. Maybe Gilbert would have loved him for real.
But this was a different world from the ones in his daydreams.
Matthew and Gilbert were enemies and no matter how much Matthew loved him, they could never be together.
They could never be one.
It hurt to think about what could have happened in another life, but he did anyway. He imagined what it would be like to get married to Gilbert, to hold his hand by the seashore, to make love to him by a fireplace.
Those thoughts were he only thing he had to cling to now.
Because, whether it be by the hands of the German or the agency, Matthew was going to die in just over a week.

I am an asshole!

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