Author's note: I...really have no words for this. I found a dark America/Japan picture at and suddenly I had this desire to write something dark and frightening. I've expanded on America's apparent love of guns and made him into some kind of psycho. I don't know when this is taking place :/ I'm also warning you now: there is character death. This is not a light and happy fanfic; it's serious and touches on possible sensitive material. I like writing dark!America way too much D:

And just so you all know, no, I do NOT have a gun kink. Though this fic might make you think otherwise .__.'

*****

He loved guns. He loved they way they felt when stroking against his skin. He loved holding the power with just one little finger. He loved looking into the fearful (and sometimes defiant) eyes of the people when he aimed his weapon at them. He enjoyed the pleading and the begging far more than he should have.

In times before, he would never have enjoyed such a thing. But the sheer power that one gun held – He was drunk on it; He couldn't get enough. They were such beautiful instruments. Austria had talked of his "musical instruments" but he found guns much more beautiful. The medieval weapons France and England and the rest of them used to use were nothing compared to a fully-loaded pistol.

It took great skill to be able to hit a target with a gun. He enjoyed practicing, to see the looks on other's faces when they saw what he could do. He loved seeing strong countries bow before him; him and his powerful gun.

"A-America-san…"

The whimper below him drove him out of his thoughts and made him smile. "Hey Japan!" he said cheerfully, holding his glorious gun to the other's trembling face. "Isn't this gun beautiful? It's brand new and everything."

"I…"

America's face darkened and he pressed the barrel of the gun under Japan's chin. "Isn't it?" he asked coolly.

"Y-Yes," the smaller man replied, fear enveloping him.

The blonde smiled again and took the gun away. He caressed the weapon delicately, as though cradling a precious child. His obsession was clear and terrifying. Japan watched as America darted his tongue out and licked it, moaning softly. Japan swallowed hard, unsure of what the American was going to do next.

"Do you wanna taste it too?" America asked, as though simply discussing the weather. Japan wanted to shake his head; to refuse this crazy man. He remained silent and America clicked his tongue. "I asked you a question, Japan," he hissed, kneeling down towards him and shoving the gun unceremoniously into his mouth. He gagged slightly. "Tastes good, right?" America said with false happiness. His Hollywood smile was so fake, it made him want to vomit.

Japan felt the tears at the corners of his eyes, but blinked them away, glaring up at the younger nation. He could feel the gun in his mouth – the taste of steel was not appetizing.

"Fuck, do you know how hot you look right now?" America's breath touched his cheek and he panicked. "My gun in your mouth…" He groaned. The dark-haired male had no idea how this looked attractive, but the bulge in the other's pants wasn't a lie. "Suck on it," America ordered breathlessly, eyes glazed over with lust.

Now it was just getting ridiculous. Japan shook his head, narrowing his eyes. He would not lower his honor anymore. America frowned and shoved the gun in more. "I said, suck on it," he spat. "Or I'll blow your fucking brains out."

Japan inhaled sharply. His tongue darted out and licked the barrel. It tasted horrible, but the satisfied look on the American's face made him continue. As he attempted to suck and lick at this gun, America was spreading his legs and stroking himself through his pants.

"Oh…yes…" he moaned, eyes never leaving the gun. Japan saw him tensing up the more he licked and soon, he had released himself. America removed the gun from Japan's mouth and stared at the saliva dripping from it. Japan's mouth was dry – he desperately needed water. "You did good," America mumbled, wiping his gun clean. "But not good enough, I'm afraid." He aimed the gun at Japan then.

"W-What?" Japan croaked out.

"Good bye, Japan."

"A-America-san…why?"

The American's blank expression didn't change. "You put your tongue inside. No one can do that but me. It's my gun. I don't understand how none of you get that."

Japan was trembling on the floor now. "I…I…"

"My gun; my property. You don't fuck around with my property."

He had no answer. America's logic was lost on him. He hung his head and bit his lip. He heard the click of the gun and looked back up into the cold, blue eyes of the young nation whom everyone had once adored.

The gunshot was loud, but America was used to it. The cleaning lady would clean this mess up later, so he needn't bother. He walked out of his hotel room, leaving the door slightly open and licking blood off the barrel of his gun, all the while whistling the Star-Spangled Banner.