2p England- My little cupcake (part 3)

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2p England prt 3-

You watched Oliver as he reached out confidently and picked up the (f/c) cupcake that you had almost just picked up. He swiftly removed it from the case to reveal that the sponge was bright red. He smiled to himself and took a bite of the cake, constantly keeping eye contact with you as he bit, chewed and swallowed. A smirk spread across his lips as if he knew that you thought the cake looked suspicious and known that he had proven you wrong.
"Well poppet, I guess we both passed that round. Are you ready for another go?" He narrowed his eyes and gave you a mischievous look that made you feel a little uncomfortable but at the same time more competitive.
"I am so ready." You replied, mirroring the look on his face which made him smirk wider.
"On then dear."

You raised your hand and hovered it over the plate, leaving Oliver on the edge of his seat in anticipation. You finally decided on luminously pink iced cupcake.
'Ok, so if it's red or green then I know that I'm safe...well...hopefully.' You thought as you slowly took the midnight black case off the cupcake.

It was red.

You smiled and sighed in victory.
"Well I guess this is my lucky day." You gave a small satisfied laugh and looked across at Oliver, who had averted his eyes away from you so he looked disappointed. You took a bite in to the cake and chewed. After looking back at Oliver though you suddenly felt very afraid...his head was tilted and resting on his left shoulder, a wide smile had crept its way across his pale lips that were slightly parted. He began to laugh in a robotic, slow fashion.
"Ha ha ha ha ha...got...you." You swallowed as soon as he said those words.
'What the...shit...this is bad.' Your heart stared beating abnormally fast and vision started to blur.
"What...but...you." Your breathing started to quicken.
Oliver stumbled out of his chair, his body a bit limp and loose.
"I got you. I got you. I got you." He repeated as he stumbled over to your chair, then began to untie your restraints, his hands shaking as he untied the rope. As soon as you knew that you were able to stand,you did, only to find yourself on the floor. You couldn't get your thoughts straight. You were fumbling around trying to find your feet but completely failing, so ended up flopping around on the white kitchen tiles like a dying fish. Oliver was leaning against the wall, only just steadying himself, watching in amusement. He slowly licked his smooth lips.
"You're mine now." His words were slurred. He proceeded to get on to the floor and crawl his way over to you. He held your head up with one hand and let his other glide its way along your forehead. Once he had removed it his fingertips were covered in crimson blood. Your blood.
'Wh...where did...that come from...did...I hit my head?' You thought. Your eyes drifted to the kitchen tiles to see that there was a small puddle of blood.
He examined fluid dripping from his fingers, then proceeded to lock eyes with you and lick your rouge blood from his fingers. You grimaced.

"GET AWAY FROM HER YOU RETARDED SON OF A BITCH!"

A tall blond man with glasses burst in to the room carrying another guy and a shot gun slung over one of his shoulders.
"Am...erica" you said weakly. You knew you were loosing consciousness due to poison in your system. Everything was fuzzy.
'Am I dying?' You thought.
"Don't worry (y/n), the hero is here to save you!" Alfred shouted. Oliver released your head from his grip and clumsily stood up.
"Alfred...dearest friend...what can I do for you on this fine day?" He swayed on his feet and smiled like a maniac. Alfred put Arthur on the floor against the wall and turned his full attention to the pink haired Englishman.
"Stop these sick games you filthy 2p!" He ran swiftly up to Oliver and punched him square in the face, causing him to fall back on to the messy kitchen counter. He chuckled evilly and reached out to grasp the large knife that was on the side. He spun around and lunged towards America, who dodged.
"Filthy 2p. FILTHY 2P! How fudging dare you!" Oliver screamed, his eye twitching either due to his madness or the poison.
You lay on the floor as they continued to fight trying to hang on to reality as madness danced around your brain. The light hurt your eyes, your body was as stiff as a plank of wood and a dark red rash had spread its way across parts of your skin. The man slumped against the wall caught your attention, but you couldn't work out who it was. You wanted to ask but your mouth was dry and you could not form the words in your mind. His neck had a sore looking line going around it. His lips seemed to be forming words but nothing came out. But then you realised it...he was mouthing your name.
As you lost your consciousness, you heard the angry, pain filled shout of a man.

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