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Literature Text
It took about a month for everything to be checked and double checked, that that the man (who you had overheard someone call 'Cuba') was safe and had no criminal records, that he had a room for you to stay in, and that his house was clean and fit for children. You had no belongings except for a few pairs of clothes and a silver necklace that belonged to your mother, so it took no time for you to have everything set up in your new room. Cuba had gone out with a friend of his and decorated your new room and had got you a closet full of clothes, apparently.
Admittedly, it was hard to adjust. You had gone from living off scraps in an alley to living in a nice house with your new father in under a month. Thankfully, Cuba had been very understanding of your choice to be alone while you tried to get used to everything. Lately, you had begun to spend more time with him, following him almost everywhere he went. He knew that this would be bad when he had to go to his next meeting, but he would deal with that when the time came.
You had very soon discovered the Cuban man's love of ice cream. He usually had five huge tubs of it in the freezer in the garage, and would often have a bowl or two with you. You were gaining the weight that you had lost in those years that you had spent living off garbage back, slowly. You were being homeschooled, for Cuba was worried about your social skills and what would happen if you were bullied. He knew that you were used to being alone and didn't want to make you uncomfortable by throwing you in with a bunch of other children that you didn't know.
Presently, Cuba was attempting to teach you to speak Spanish so you could converse with him in his native language. It was a slow process, but Spanish was becoming your best subject. Despite having lived with little to no learning experience, you were picking up with your work excellently.
"Hola, es un placer conocerte," Cuba said, enunciating the words carefully.
You frowned, processing the sounds before repeating what he had said in Spanish and in English. "Hola, es un placer conocerte. Hello, it's nice to meet you."
Cuba smiled proudly and ruffled your hair. "You know, you're good at this."
You cracked a smile.
Things were usually quiet in the house. You were most likely next to Cuba, eating a bowl of ice cream and watching cartoons as he did his paperwork. You had asked about his work before, but he had just responded with, "My boss needs me to work a lot these days." You had just nodded, and you never felt the urge to ask again. You knew that Cuba would tell you if it was necessary for you to know.
Today, you were going to meet a friend of Cuba's, who apparently would be watching you when his next meeting came up. You were told that his name was Matthew, and that he was a friend. Cuba had told you that he was a person that you could trust, and that if you didn't like him you didn't need to stay with him. You were cynical at first, but you decided to give it a shot anyway.
A few hours later, the man was waiting outside while Cuba rushed to answer the door. He opened it and said, "Canada! …That is Canada, right?"
"Yeah. Hello, Cuba." You had to strain your ears to hear the other man's quiet response.
"(F/n)'s in the living room. Follow me."
"Okay."
Your father was walked into the living room, followed by a tall blonde haired man. He had a strange curl coming out of his hair, and he gave off an aura of calm and quiet. He seemed like a nice enough person.
Cuba pointed to you and said, "Matthew, that's (f/n). (F/n), this is Matthew."
Matthew walked over to you and knelt down, extending his hand for you to shake. Cuba was standing on the other side of the room, a bit nervously. He was shifting from foot to foot and wringing his hands, looking a bit scared.
You reached out your hand and shook Matthew's. "Nice to meet you, sir."
Matthew smiled. "No need to call me 'sir'. You can just call me Matthew."
Cuba let out a sigh of relief, causing the both of you to look over at him. "Who wants some ice cream?"
Admittedly, it was hard to adjust. You had gone from living off scraps in an alley to living in a nice house with your new father in under a month. Thankfully, Cuba had been very understanding of your choice to be alone while you tried to get used to everything. Lately, you had begun to spend more time with him, following him almost everywhere he went. He knew that this would be bad when he had to go to his next meeting, but he would deal with that when the time came.
You had very soon discovered the Cuban man's love of ice cream. He usually had five huge tubs of it in the freezer in the garage, and would often have a bowl or two with you. You were gaining the weight that you had lost in those years that you had spent living off garbage back, slowly. You were being homeschooled, for Cuba was worried about your social skills and what would happen if you were bullied. He knew that you were used to being alone and didn't want to make you uncomfortable by throwing you in with a bunch of other children that you didn't know.
Presently, Cuba was attempting to teach you to speak Spanish so you could converse with him in his native language. It was a slow process, but Spanish was becoming your best subject. Despite having lived with little to no learning experience, you were picking up with your work excellently.
"Hola, es un placer conocerte," Cuba said, enunciating the words carefully.
You frowned, processing the sounds before repeating what he had said in Spanish and in English. "Hola, es un placer conocerte. Hello, it's nice to meet you."
Cuba smiled proudly and ruffled your hair. "You know, you're good at this."
You cracked a smile.
Things were usually quiet in the house. You were most likely next to Cuba, eating a bowl of ice cream and watching cartoons as he did his paperwork. You had asked about his work before, but he had just responded with, "My boss needs me to work a lot these days." You had just nodded, and you never felt the urge to ask again. You knew that Cuba would tell you if it was necessary for you to know.
Today, you were going to meet a friend of Cuba's, who apparently would be watching you when his next meeting came up. You were told that his name was Matthew, and that he was a friend. Cuba had told you that he was a person that you could trust, and that if you didn't like him you didn't need to stay with him. You were cynical at first, but you decided to give it a shot anyway.
A few hours later, the man was waiting outside while Cuba rushed to answer the door. He opened it and said, "Canada! …That is Canada, right?"
"Yeah. Hello, Cuba." You had to strain your ears to hear the other man's quiet response.
"(F/n)'s in the living room. Follow me."
"Okay."
Your father was walked into the living room, followed by a tall blonde haired man. He had a strange curl coming out of his hair, and he gave off an aura of calm and quiet. He seemed like a nice enough person.
Cuba pointed to you and said, "Matthew, that's (f/n). (F/n), this is Matthew."
Matthew walked over to you and knelt down, extending his hand for you to shake. Cuba was standing on the other side of the room, a bit nervously. He was shifting from foot to foot and wringing his hands, looking a bit scared.
You reached out your hand and shook Matthew's. "Nice to meet you, sir."
Matthew smiled. "No need to call me 'sir'. You can just call me Matthew."
Cuba let out a sigh of relief, causing the both of you to look over at him. "Who wants some ice cream?"
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She didn't know how long she was running. She was getting tired and her legs were threatening to give out at any moment. But she couldn't stop, if she did there would only be a world of pain.
Suddenly she was falling. Falling into a thick, cold blackness that she'll never get out of again. She screamed.
Then (f/n) felt warm, strong arms around her and a soft, comforting voice murmured in her ear, "(f/n), sunflower, everything's alright. You're safe. I'm here.'
(f/n)
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~~Age 4~~
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It was a hot and sunny day, birds could be heard chirping outside the open windows. Roderich was writing his music down on paper, play a few notes now and then. After a while, he noticed the house was rather.....quite. Roderich turned around, waiting to see (__f/n__) playing with her doll. But.....she wasn't there. Panic shot threw Roderich.
"(__f/n__)
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Part 2!
You soaked in the bubbly water, surprised that the strange man had any for that matter, and didn't know what to think.
When the two of you arrived at his apartment, he ordered you to, as he put it, “get out of those rags and take a bath, runt!”
Of course, still being scared of people and this big, wide world, you immediately stripped yourself. But had to get directions to the bathroom, and get a big cloth and little cloth, and finally have the man set the water, not forgetting the nice-smelling bubbles he added.
Really comical, yes, but to you-- you were still trying to sink it all in. The
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Part two of 'Daddy's Little Angel', a request from ! This one's a bit of a filler chapter, but I needed to introduce Canada somehow. He's going to be your babysitter whenever Cuba's out of town or something due to work.
Part 1- [link]
Part 3- [link]
Hetalia is not mine.
Neither are Canada or Cuba.
I don't own you.
But I DO own the story.
Part 1- [link]
Part 3- [link]
Hetalia is not mine.
Neither are Canada or Cuba.
I don't own you.
But I DO own the story.
© 2012 - 2024 Resistance33
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