#alfred f. jones they could never make me hate you

[sashaalexanderkido]

Did you see my vision?

[mimicmimikyuwrites]

I Love You's - (W/ America, Russia, England, Canada) x GN!Reader

Summary: Little fluffy scenarios where some of my favorite nations tell a gn!reader "I love you" 💕

Contents/Possible Warnings: Lots of fluff, kinda angsty tho for a lot of them, hurt with comfort, gn!reader

America (Alfred F. Jones)

He never thought he'd fall in love. It wasn't something Alfred avoided, but it also wasn't something he ever sought out. He had accomplished a lot in the relatively short period he had been around, he was still young and had opportunities to chase, and with that, he never imagined he'd have the time for romance. Still, things happened and now you were here with him, and there wasn't a happier man in the entirety of the world. With you beside him, he couldn't ask for anything better.

You were beautiful, so beautiful; both inside and out. Your hair was soft, your eyes captivated him, you understood him entirely, you loved him! He could go on forever, gushing about his awesome partner. You were the definition of perfection to him, flawed or not. He was head over heels.

"Love attack!" He nearly shouted while you were watching a movie with him in the living room one night, cupping your face in his hands as he began to pepper it with kisses. It startled you, but you loved it. One thing you adored about him was how he never tried to hide his affections. He was in love, and he'd be damned if he didn't show it.

You giggled, lightly pushing on his chest as he kissed every part of your face he could, now laughing himself. He kissed your forehead, your now reddened cheeks, your nose, and your cheeks again. When he was done he pulled back, grinning at the sight of your flustered, but happy expression.

"You missed, silly," you smiled playfully, pulling him back in before kissing him sweetly, satisfied hums escaping you both. You loved him, and you made sure to convey that with every movement of your lips together.

"I love you," He said between kisses. "My honey, my love, my baby, my sweetheart, my everything." It was true, you were his everything. He didn't want to live fast anymore, jumping at every opportunity, not when his most important one was right in front of him, and had such kissable lips, too.

Russia (Ivan Braginsky)

It was a well-known fact to those who had ever visited that Russia's house was more than just cold. It was freezing, something which you still weren't used to, even after all the years you had spent living with him. It got even colder during the night, and blankets could only do so much.

Ivan always hated the cold, the connection between it and the isolation he had endured throughout his life unable to be undone. Things were different now, though. He had you with him, someone to warm his heart, especially during those frigid nights he had dreaded so much.

"Ivan," you called out to him from the bed, wrapped up in multiple thick blankets that seemed to do nothing to keep you from shivering. "Come to bed, дорогой" You spoke with a tired smile, the last word making him melt as it left your mouth. 'Darling,' you had called him in his native tongue. He was your darling.

As he slipped into your shared bed with you he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, his eyes closed in relaxation and bliss as he nuzzled his face into your hair. You made him feel warm, and that's all he ever truly wanted out of life. Someone to love, and someone to love him back.

"я тебя люблю." He mumbled against you, smiling softly. "мое солнышко." You were his sunshine, a ray of light shining through despite the clouds. He moved his head out of your hair and leaned down, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. "Promise me you'll never leave," he told you, caressing your cheek gently. To anyone else, that would've sounded like a demand, but to you it was a request for comfort.

"I'm not going anywhere," You reassured him, kissing his cheek. "I love you, Ivan. With all of my heart. я тебя люблю."

England (Arthur Kirkland)

Having done so much throughout his history, Arthur savored quiet moments, even if they were little ones. The moments when he wasn't busy, and the moments when he wasn't plagued with the harsh realities of the world. His favorite moments, however, involved you.

You were kinder than anyone else he had ever met in his centuries of being alive, a true angel. You were his everything, the love of his life, so much so that he wondered how he had gone so long without you. When you were with him he didn't feel so distant from everyone else; he felt wanted.

You were curled up next to him on the couch, your arms wrapped around him as you leaned your head against his shoulder, simply enjoying his company while a television show neither of you were paying much attention to played in the background.

The one bad thing about these quiet moments was the rare opportunity for his mind to drift into places, or more so memories, that he'd rather not think about. He had fought with so many people throughout his life, some of which he had cherished. In the end, everyone left him, sooner or later, a distance soon growing. Were you the next one to leave...? What if you two had an argument one day, and you decided you couldn't stand being around him anymore? What if he—

"Arthur," your voice reached his ears, tone gentle and soft. Then, your hand came forward to cup his face, carefully turning his head towards you. "You're overthinking again, love." You frowned, making an observation. "Do you want to talk about it?" He shook his head.

"No. It's nothing we haven't already discussed." He replied, smiling at you sadly. "It's my own insecurities, nothing you need to worry about, dear." With this, your frown grew before you leaned in, kissing him lovingly.

"I love you," He muttered against your lips, emerald green eyes looking into yours with an adoration reserved only for you. "I love you so much." He meant it with every part of his being. Even with his fears, deep down, he knew you wouldn't abandon him, because you loved him with every part of your being, too.

Canada (Matthew Williams)

He was used to being forgotten. Always the quiet one, he was easily overlooked, even by those closest to him. Honestly, he didn't know how he managed to start dating you, or get you to notice he was there. To him, he wasn't anything special, just maple leaves and the friend of a bear who barely knew who he was. He didn't deserve you.

"Matthew," You smiled at him one morning over breakfast. "I've been practicing my French recently, thought it'd be useful, y'know? Can I speak to you a bit and get your feedback? I'm not too good at it yet..."

He nodded, returning your smile. You were so smart, so clever, so cute. You were always trying to learn new things, especially when it came to him and his nation. You never forget about him, you were so sweet, so unique, and he was just... himself.

"Hmm..." You hummed in faux contemplation, acting like you were trying to remember what you were going to say. You knew exactly what was on your mind. "Why don't I start with a pretty common phrase? Je t'iame." He blushed at your words. You told him that every day without fail, but hearing it in French felt different somehow, more meaningful in a way.

"Y-You said it excellently." He stuttered out, heart racing as you looked into his amethyst eyes, a gleam of admiration for him in your own.

"Ooh! Let me try out another phrase, then," You grinned, leaning forward slightly over the table. "These ones are a bit more complicated. Tu es l’amour de ma vie. Tu es mon âme sœur," the words poured out from your lips, the sound like music to his ears. You said it perfectly, how long had you been practicing? You must've put in a lot of effort...

"Woah!" You gasped, standing up from your seat at the sight of small tears welling up in his eyes. You rushed over to him, holding his face gently in your hands as your thumbs wiped away his tears. "I didn't mean to make you cry—"

He sniffled, standing up to wrap you in a tight embrace. "I don't deserve you," He whispered, voice shaky. He was happy, so happy. He loved you, and he'd never stop. "Je t’aime de tout mon cœur," he told you with love, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he did so. "I love you with all my heart," he clarified with a small chuckle after you shot him a confused look.

"How do I say that, but back to you?" You questioned, tilting your head slightly in curiosity. Adorable, you were beyond adorable. He chuckled again, answering you only but kissing you lovingly. He'd teach you soon enough, but for now, he was focused on expressing his love for you in ways that involved less French.

[darkwaltz-blog]

Hello! Could you write allies with a girlfriend, who is easily aroused and has a lot of sexual desire?

ALLIES X S/O WITH A LOT OF SEXUAL DESIRE.

Warning: +18 content.

Sorry for the slow updates, I've been a bit busy the last few weeks. But I'm finally here again! ^^

Arthur Kirkland [England]

He's too proud to admit it, but he loves the idea that his S/O is always craving his touch, somehow it makes him feel wanted and boosts his ego.

Arthur has quite a few fantasies and hidden desires, but due to how busy he is, he never pays enough attention to them. An S/O with a high libido helps him a lot to be himself sexually. In the depths of the mind of the distinguished English gentleman, there is an evil being who enjoys subjecting his partner to punishment and obedience games.

If his partner tries to provoke him in public, Arthur blushes terribly as he quietly scolds her to stop. From there, your partner has two paths to choose from:

-If you stop, he will thank you and gently take your hand and place it in his lap.

-If you continue, prepare to be punished when you get home, suffering from the denial of your orgasm while your sadistic boyfriend insults you with the dirtiest language you have ever heard.

Francis Bonnefoy [France]

Francis would love to have a partner who is easily aroused. He knows how to show his love in different ways, but his preferred love language will always be physical.

He is a great connoisseur in sexual matters, he is a know-it-all who will always be above his partner in this regard.

He is a fan of communication. Since before starting the relationship, he has had a conversation with his partner where limits are set. He hates making his partner uncomfortable.

He loves when his partner is the one who initiates the intimate moments, the feeling of being needed turns him on instantly.

He is aware of how easy it is to stimulate his S/O, he loves to tease her with naughty comments or touches, and as soon as she gets turned on, Francis ignores her for a moment just to see her necessary reaction.

If his partner can't speak French, he whispers obscenities in his mother tongue just because he likes to see his S/O's confused face.

Alfred F. Jones [America]

Alfred doesn't have that high a sex drive, but he wouldn't mind having a partner who does. He loves physical contact, and he is someone with a lot of energy, and he shows it a lot in sex.

This boy is usually quite unaware of what is happening around him, most of the time his partner must be very direct with him and tell him what he wants.

He would enjoy watching his partner slip between his legs while he plays video games. He loves it when his S/O surprises him at random times and shows how much he wants his attention.

Alfred is usually very careless with his partner, he doesn't realize that traveling from one place to another doing different things takes him away from his affective responsibilities. His partner should have a talk where she discusses her main needs that she wants to be satisfied by him. It is best to be clear with Alfred if you want to get anywhere.

Ivan Braginski [Russia]

Ivan is very nervous about having an S/O with a huge sexual appetite. He is quite naive in this type of subject, but he works hard to reach the same level of experience as his partner. He is someone who learns fast.

This man is hungry for affection, he doesn't care if the only way to receive it is sexually.

Ivan is someone with a lot of insecurities. There are times when his mind fills with pessimistic thoughts that discourage him and make him paranoid: "If I always do the same thing with her, will she get bored with me?", "If I don't spend the time she wants, will she get someone else?", "does she love me or just wants me to have sex?"

Despite everything, he is someone quite accommodating, his partner only needs to tell him that she is eager to be touched, and he will devote his full attention to her.

He is extremely bad at understanding hints and double meanings. If one day his partner sits on his lap and starts kissing him (with obvious intentions of having sex), Ivan will think that his S/O just wants a cuddle and kiss session; he will limit himself to that unless his beloved tells him what she wants.

Matthew Williams [Canada]

Matthew is grateful to have a partner with a high sexual desire. Many people may see him as disinterested in such matters, but he has so many desires that he is eager to let it flow only with the person he loves.

He may seem like an innocent person, but once his partner gives him notice of how much he wants to be touched, the introverted Canadian turns into a complete stranger who won't stop until he takes her lover's breath away.

His stamina for sex is impressive, and this is even more evident when he receives praise from his partner. She just needs to tell him what a good boy he is, to get him turned on again. He lives for praise!

He loves that his partner is able to be easily aroused as he is too and is always in the mood to cater to his partner's sexual needs as well as himself. He doesn't mind that this happens in the least appropriate places, since he is not ashamed to freely express his sexual life.

Yao Wang [China]

Yao has been in existence for quite a few years, he has run into countless people. Meeting someone with a high libido would not be a surprise to him, however, it would still take work tailored to a relationship with such a partner.

He would have a lot of trouble adjusting to a relationship where his partner has a large sexual appetite. This man has lived for a long time, and many of the old customs have inadvertently stayed with him, based on that, Yao makes clear to his mistress certain conditions such as limiting any sexual proposals to the bedroom.

Yao is often embarrassed by many things, and her partner's continual sexual advances are included.

He's a fan of cute things, and seeing his darling blushing and panting under him is one of the most adorable sights he's ever seen, he tries so hard not to break down seeing his partner in that state.

[hellonerf]

suicide is discouraged in the workplace

im not even gonna try to be coherent here. this is not an analysis post i am braindead. if i was a better artist makima wouldve been my muse when i was deep into chainsawman. actuallt she kind of was but i pussyed out

OK everyone here can subconsciously understand this connection. dont get too hung up on makima's strong motherhood theme and i just thought about what if ame was motherly and i couldn't kill myself right aftee thinking that as i have no means to it. that was a joke its late and im just me. i decided i wasnt a fan of motherly ame though so all suicidal thoughts erased. i am really chill now

old makima fanart i drew that im trying not to rip my hairs out over thinking about it with ame. also dont worry if this makes tou find my mainblog or main accounts whatever

actually theyre really different in many ways now that im looking at these. ame is so much of a son and makima is so much of a mother its like oppsoite spectrums. but thay makes the commonalities fun actuallt. i keep thinking about the movies and makima hating bad movies. ame is not an art kid by any means does he even care of the beauty of the world? i doubt it. but he likes bad movies and he likes cheap entertainment so who knows... they'd disagree on that. well i think makima's opinion on that was pretty extreme so i think most would disagree with her really

i could imagine ame going "Chainsawman. Doesn't spit." and smoking for the first time to look cool like in movies only to pathetically cough. thats their common trait... artifice... humans... but in a way that loops back to being Really Human i guess. holds a kind of arrogance and hubris that is so associated with humanity. it cant be anything else. ame should kill himself i think he should get moments of clarity and awareness and want to kill himself rqlly bad

both concepts of control. awesome. SUICIDE IS NOT ENDORSED IN THE WRKPLACE. ame goes to protestant church once or twice and sleeps because hes useless. makima is baptised and goes to local catholic churches not the cathedrals she supports the local christians.FUCK i just remembered the country mouse city mouse thing. ame is a liar and hates everything and loves everything and never feels content. i like to imagine him as a country mouse so fucking bad i want him to chill out one day and go to those middle of nowheres i know exist in america(can i shove cana in here and get away with it). why are they in the city if they are country mice? because..... you know..... you understand..... another w for eternal unhappiness (refer to title of this post)(suicide is discouraged in the workplace)

they are evil bosses i am the employee and when i ask for a break they gaze at me with a vacant stare and smile and i know in my heart they are viewing me like i am beneath them. i get scared and run away but truth is they didnt hear my request. they do not register individual people

if they met they would know immediately and viceversa. because everyone knows subconsciously because lying is futile and everything melts away. ame:i know a toxic boymom when i see one... okay im kidding makima is a toxic boymom if u push the chainsawman in ur head 🙂 ame as a kind of control devil works inmy head. i really believe ame was a polite child but demanding in many ways. sincerely wanting.

ame:gun devil i'll give you one year of the lifespans of the american people. in exchange i want you to kill makima—that is... the control devil (i never got around to drawing this)(ame and gun devil can you imagine)

or:gun devil i'll give you one year of the lifespans of the american people. in exchange i want you to kill alfred f jones—that is... the united states of america (paradox)

throughout all this i wanted to cite the best makima artist in the world ever but i'd feel bad if they wouldn't want to be associated with evil hetalia america blog. also i want to be normal and not cringe at being cringe just becayse i think makima was a thunderstrike of genius that i shouldn't taint. ame is a more flexible character to me for obvious reasons. this is how i'd shove ame into makima's role. but u couldn't put makima as ame. only one way. im okay with that. concept idea consensus words fear control blablabla u get the point i hate using words dont care sleepy now

[thesinglesjukebox]

POST MALONE FT. BLAKE SHELTON - "POUR ME A DRINK"

In a red solo cup, perhaps?

[3.22]

Ian Mathers: Barring a couple of minor signifiers this does not sound like country music; it sounds like the theme music for the most excruciatingly boring sitcom the "golden age" of ad-supported network TV ever produced. [0]

Taylor Alatorre: I don't know why Post would risk nationwide schadenfreude by carping about a close Cowboys loss, only to forgo regional specificity in the very next line by mentioning I-65 instead of I-45. I guess the thinking is that Texas pride doesn't sell as well as a denuded Southern or heartland identity -- except that Beyoncé and Miranda Lambert exist, and Twisters managed to spin box office gold out of its Oklahoma mythmaking. I stand by my prediction that F-1 Trillion was not going to be a Kid Rock re-enactment, because Kid, like him or not, never laid himself under the Nashville hydraulic press to this extent. In his heart, Post has to know that this isn't the only way, that real country boys are out here doing collabs not only with out-the-mud rappers, but with Underoath and A Day to Remember and the meme dude from Attack Attack!, that the stars were aligned for this project to be something other than replacement-level. His overriding desire to Become Product leaves all such options greyed out, which, under a more generous light, could be viewed as the self-sublimating act of a humble pre-Renaissance artisan. Ego death in the service of the ultimate tailgate, sponsored by Raising Cane's. [4]

Will Adams: If the prominent Bud Light placement in the video isn't evidence enough of this song's hollow center, consider how the cynicism in both Post's and Blake's performances is already apparent even before the dozens of bowl halftime shows they will undoubtedly be booked to play this at. [2]

Al Varela: Guess I should have expected that Post Malone's foray into country music would just be a trojan horse for Nashville to pitch their usual fare to a mainstream audience. I'd be more irritated if I didn't begrudgingly really like this. A lively fiddle and sweeping organ alongside Post Malone's expert chorus craftsmanship is an easy way to win me over with even the most generic country radio slop. Blake Shelton and Post Malone have like, no chemistry together but you know what they sound good on the hook so I wouldn't turn down that drink from either of them. [7]

Nortey Dowuona: It's good to see some, just, well,  know their place. On an unrelated note, where is my cranberry canape? [0]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: To my great regret, I must note that I was unfair to Morgan Wallen a few months ago. As I heard it — nearly every time I went outside this summer, all up and down the west coast — "I Had Some Help" grew on me, an unwanted song of the summer affixing itself like a parasite to the various systems of my mind. I cannot be quite convinced that it's good but I likewise cannot be made to hate it; the strange chemistry between Post's reedy, saintly fuck-up and Wallen's honking misanthrope turns the song into a diptych far more compelling than originally intended. Case in point: Blake Shelton absolutely does not have the juice here, sounding for all the world like someone's uncle doing karaoke to a Blake Shelton song. Without an interesting foil, the entire Post Malone country enterprise capsizes; the guy seems pleasant enough but as he ambles through these verses my patience for his schtick erodes quickly. [3]

Alfred Soto: When Miranda Lambert made the grisly mistake of thinking she could spend her life with Blake Shelton, his glass-eyed mien gave the game away. She had married a streetlight that would never know the pleasure of a dog pissing on him. In this standard it's-5 o'clock-somewhere thumper he makes Post Malone sound like George Jones. [4]

Jel Bugle: A straightforward country song about typical country music things -- drinking and travelling about, drinking too much, and the need for another drink. A kind of escapism. [6]

Katherine St. Asaph: I cannot imagine this playing anywhere that alcohol is served. [3]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

[urmysummersun]

The Jock & The Punk : A Romerica Fanfiction

Five

———————————————————————

Warning: This chapter depicts actions of homophobia and bad choices in parenting. I will not be writing out the slurs instead using * because I do my feel comfortable writing them.

Words : 1429

As Alfred drove home from his, now boyfriend, Romano's house, he felt the butterflies in his stomach morph into something darker. Something like fear.

His mom was going to tear into him about coming home late. Also, having a boyfriend would make her even more livid.

As he drove into the car port, next to his Mom's and brothers car, his head was telling him to run away. Romano's mom had made Alfred, though not on purpose, jealous. The blonde's mom had never been the most caring. Only during certain nights did she talk about how she wished for him to be a hero. Instead, She would always give people the side glance if she didn't approve of their "style of living." And that was on a good day.

Alfred remembered the first time his mom and had him ran into an openly-gay couple. She started screaming slurs, throwing anything in their general vicinity.

From that day on, he repressed the emotions he had felt for boys from his mother. He always knew he was gay, but he knew he couldn't tell his mother. What would happen to him?

"Be brave, Alfred."

He heard his mom, on a good day, whisper in his mind.

He couldn't! But then again, maybe she's changed. It's been years since she freaked out. Maybe she learned from her mistakes.

So Alfred decided he was going to go inside the house, sit at the kitchen table, and tell his mom and brother, that he had a new lover.

"Mom! I'm home."

Alfred walked into the house, hearing footsteps coming down the stairs. He saw Mattie sitting at the couch.

Matthew mouthed "she's pissed." Alfred replied with "She might be even more after this." Matthew gave a confused look back to Alfred.

"Alfred F. Jones! Where in the world have you been?"

"Ah, sorry Mom. I was with someone. Then when I dropped them off, their mom had asked to make me dinner. Their mom wouldn't let me deny politely so I ate with them."

Alfred's mom had looked a lot like him. Both were blonde and had the same shaped face and eyes. But their eyes, those were different. Not just with the color, but with their emotions. His eyes were full of kindness and compassion, while hers were fierce and hateful. Something Alfred was always scared about.

"Mom, I actually want to talk to you about something."

His Mom had walked in the kitchen, making some tea so she could call herself down. Alfred followed her.

"Hmm?"

"Well, uh, I got a partner."

Alfred could feel two sets of eyes on him, one from his brother that seemed to be pleading to not say anything in fear to cause uproar, and the other pair which Alfred couldn't quite read.

"What's her name?"

"Well, he's actually a he."

All you heard was the sound of a glass breaking, and a slap following right after. Alfred's cheek stung. His mom had never hit him before.

"What the fuck."

Alfred couldn't respond. Matthew had ran from the couch to see what happened when he heard the glass shatter, being able to see the slap.

"You're a fucking ******?!"

"Mom, you need to calm down-"

"No Matthew! I'm not going to have a son has a ***!"

Tears stung at the corners of Alfred's eyes.

'I thought she changed.' Alfred started to blur everything together, not being able to feel the sting on his face anymore, not hearing the loud voices, not hearing his Mom storm upstairs.

"Al, are you okay?"

Alfred took a shakey breath, finally getting out of the dissociative trance.

"Why would you tell her?"

"I- I thought she might've changed."

Matthew pulled on Alfred's arm as he took him into the living room to sit on the couch.

"I don't think it's a good idea for either of us to stay home tonight."

Alfred shook his head. He was still pretty shaken up from the harassment.

"I- I can maybe ask 'Mano if I could stay with him. Would you want to come with me or go somewhere else?"

"Well, I don't really have anyone else."

Matthew was a quiet person who didn't like to talk to many people in fear of what they'd say.

So the boys nodded their heads at each other and packed their things.

Matthew insisted on driving the two in his car, a red jeep, in case Romano's mother had said no. Alfred told him that she probably would say yes, but Matthew was too riddled with anxiety to not take the jeep.

As the two boys drove, the radio was on and playing pop music from 10 years ago. It was weirdly comforting for Alfred. It reminded him of his past, when his Mom didn't scream slurs at his face. He longed to go back then, but considered it a bit more.

"Down this road?" Matthew asked, getting a 'mhm' in response.

Before he knew it, the two were in front of Romano's house.

Alfred stumbled his way up to the door, mind fuzzy due to the hard slap his mother had gave him, and knocked on the door.

"Who the fuck is here at 11 o' clock at night?"

They heard a voice proclaim, footsteps walking up to the door.

"What the fuck-"

Romano stopped in mid sentence when he saw his boyfriend at the front door, one side of his face red in the shape of a handprint, and a guy who looked a lot like Alfred behind him.

"Alfred? What's wrong?"

The blonde tried speaking, only getting sobs out of his mouth. He started breathing erratically when Romano ushered him inside.

"Il tesoro.."

Romano sat Alfred on the couch, nodding at the other man to come in, and sat next to him.

"Mom, she isn't very accepting. She went off on him when he told her that he had a boyfriend."

Matthew interrupted.

"She- She hit him?"

Matthews gaze fell to his brother, back up to the Italian and nodded.

"I told him it wasn't a good idea to stay in the house tonight. She's unpredictable."

Romano's gaze left Alfred's brother (he guessed based on him saying Mom) and back to the quivering boy in his arms.

"Romano, what's going on?"

Romano's mom came into the living room, Feliciano following behind.

"Mom, it's Alfred's mom."

Miss Vargas' eyes sorrowed, as she looked at the slap on Alfred's face.

"She did this?"

Romano nodded, and watched Feli's eyes widen before heading to the kitchen, probably to fix a cup of tea for the American.

Miss Vargas took a few steps towards Alfred, careful to be quiet and show no sudden movements, and kneeled to the floor, grabbing his hand gently.

She looked up at the other blonde, and asked, "Do you two want to stay here for a bit? We have enough room and an extra bedroom."

Matthew shocked expression told it all. She smiled warmly, looking back to the other blonde.

"Alfred, you both can stay for however long you like. I don't mind."

Alfred moved his head from Romano's shoulder to look at Miss Vargas. The brokenness in his eyes was unbearable. She had just met this boy, and he had already been through so much in the span of a few hours.

"Now you four are not going to school tomorrow. You have been through too much and it's the middle of the night. You will be exhausted in the morning. I'll make the boys get your sleeping situation covered, and you can go back to school on Thursday."

Matthew smiled and thanked Miss Vargas. She said it was just her being a good mother, and walked back upstairs to her room, before making sure Romano knew the rule of no funny business, causing the said Italian to blush.

Feliciano told Matthew where he would be sleeping, and maybe Alfred, depending if he would leave Romano's side.

"Hey, Feliciano, is it? Aren't you friends with that one German guy?"

Feli was just about to walk out the room when Matthew asked the question.

"Huh? Which one? There's Luddy, and his older brother Gil."

"Uh, the one who has white hair?"

"Oh that's Gil! What about him?"

Matthew blushed.

"Uh, I was just wondering. He talked to me today and I was really confused."

Feliciano hummed and said his good nights to Matthew before leaving.

In short, Alfred couldn't leave Romano's side, so they decided to sleep out in the living room.

It took a bit for Alfred's panic to go down, but with Romano, it was easier.

Thankfully, the next day would be much better.

———

Translations :

Il tesoro - honey, darling, treasure (Italian)

[sylvermidnight]

Rusame’s Rival Waltz

I never intended this to be this long but I couldn’t stand splitting it into parts. So here’s a rusame one shot based on their relationship over time, and a waltz. Lovers to enemies to lovers.

1811 St. Petersburg Russia~

His hand grips his glass just a little too tightly. If he had not been wearing gloves one may have seen that his knuckles had gone as white as his face. Alfred F. Jones had never felt so out of place in all his life and he’d been in some odd situations. Parties like this just weren’t...His scene. They never had been despite how desperately Arthur had tried.

But with his first official ambassador having arrived in Russia two years prior, he didn’t have much of a choice. John Quincy Adams had managed to meet the Russian personification before him and that was just the slightest bit disrespectful. So here he stood, against the wall dressed in finery he felt much too uncomfortable in, swaying slightly to the sound of the music. He had to admit the Winter Palace was...More than he’d expected, almost intimidatingly so. As was his elusive host. He’d only met the man once for the customary greetings. He still didn’t have the man’s human name and he knew he was unlikely to get it. Despite how long and hard he’d fought he still wasn’t exactly an equal. Not yet.

Over the din of music and conversation he hears someone call his name, he takes a drink. He’d recognize that voice anywhere waking or sleeping. The British Empire had located him at last.

“America- Don’t ignore me boy I’m speaking to you!” His glass hits the table, almost shattering. He would have to remember to mind his strength, he’d been growing a lot lately. But something about his ex-caretaker’s presence burned him up inside. Angered him beyond reason. But just as he opens his mouth to speak, to give some snippy fiery remark, he feels a gentle arm wrap around his waist from behind and he’s pulled forward out into the center of the room.

The dance floor. Once the world stops spinning and confusion leaves him he understands that’s where he is and that someone had pulled him there. Which means- He looks up to discover his surprise partner and his heart stutters. Russia looks down at him with the strangest warmest smile. He’s amused clearly and something in Alfred feels offended yet intrigued. It’s so far from the belittling laughter and smiles of the others. His eyes despite being cold in color and nature appear warm in that moment.

“I assumed you could use the assistance.” The man clarifies placing his hand against his waist to lead him in a waltz. Alfred struggles here, used to leading, not being led. He nearly trips over his own feet but regains himself in enough time not to make a fool of them both. 

“I could have handled him. It’s just Britain. Nothing I haven’t experienced before.” He didn’t want to appear weak. Not in front of the man he wanted as his ally. Not in front of someone he was admittedly eager to impress. 

“That’s true, but I doubt you would have wanted to. With all kindness he can be quite a pain.” Before Alfred had time to think of a response he was being led in a spin and eventually an actual twirl and then all hope of furthering that conversation came to an end. He even began to enjoy himself just a little bit, and that was a first. He’d never really liked dancing before, he was clumsy and awkward. But this felt right...Perhaps even natural. And even though he knows he shouldn’t, that in their world it would be seen as disrespectful, he looked up and he smiled.

Perhaps that’s what did them both in. That smile, the gentle hand against Alfred’s waist tightening just so slightly. The way Russia’s eyes showed a pure form of awe and surprise, and the way Alfred’s shown with stars. When the smile was returned something was sealed between them. A mischievous look passed Russia’s eyes and though it doesn’t break the moment he decides now would be an excellent time to dip his partner just to feel his grip on him tighten in surprise. Seeing if he could shock that daring bravery right out of this little upstart of a nation. But he doesn’t, and when Alfred comes back up his grin has widened even further, assuring that yes, they were both quite entranced.

The night progresses in this fashion. Eventually the dance dissolves into something with a little more showmanship. Something Alfred claims is popular at his home, adding more dips and spins than perhaps either of them could keep up with. But with breathless laughter and warm smiles shared neither of them cared. It came to an end all too quickly, one of Alfred’s men coming to gently inform him they must leave that very night. The moment stirred but did not break as the young nation looked up at his host. A quiet confirmation. They would see each other again. They would experience yet again this purest form of happiness and they would vow to know each other better. They simply must.

And so before Alfred could slip away Russia pressed him close to his chest one last time to finish their dance. “Ivan Braginsky,” he says in the softest of tones. For Alfred’s ears only. “I thought you would be curious.”

A human name was a high honor. One of trust and respect. To have earned it in one night was not a small accomplishment. But Alfred simply smiles coyly and slips from his grasp. “Write to me. Then I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

And he leaves Ivan there, with the image of stars and a million questions.

1955 Geneva Switzerland~

What was the point of all this? He didn’t even know. His head is pounding, his drink just isn’t strong enough. He needs to get out of here and find something stronger. Perhaps snag one of his allies on the way out to go with him. He didn’t really like hitting the bars alone; it made him feel pathetic. Alfred’s eyes scan the party lain out before him. It wasn’t anything special really. It didn’t hold a candle to anything they had held back in the day, but Switzerland had tried his best.

He had heard that Eisenhower and Khrushchev were going to attempt a civil meeting and he’d taken it upon himself to try and put this together as a celebration. Of what though? It wasn’t as if things were going to get better. Alfred had even insisted upon this to Eisenhower’s face. But the man didn’t listen. When had they stopped respecting him? And when had he pulled his flask from his pocket? And-

An all too familiar touch on his arm. Not gentle but forceful and pulling. He drops the flask but the metallic clang is hidden by the sound of the music and so are his cries of protest. Once steady on his feet he looks up into Ivan’s bright violet eyes. He’s probably drunk. But it doesn’t matter. So is Alfred. He sets his face into a grimace and once again tries to pull away again but Ivan is unrelenting in his silent insistence of a waltz. So Alfred goes along to get along. For now.

“What are you doing Braginsky you’re going to make a scene!” He hissed as the other twirls him around with the practiced ease of a lover. To distract him surely.

“What does it look like Jones? Is it a crime to wish a dance from you these days? Once upon a time I needn’t even ask.” That was true. But that was thin and this is now and America could not be seen being pulled around the dance floor by Russia which is why Alfred pulled away to swap their roles. If only for a moment.

“You know damn well why. I don’t even want to look at you let alone dance with you. You might spread something just by breathing on me.” He says aggressively dipping the man in his arms. He was lucky he was strong or that would have toppled them both. But he was older now and better on his feet. Or so he thought until Ivan came up and brought him into a lift that landed him distracted and once again being led.

“We both know that’s not true ��олнце(1). If it was you wouldn’t be here now. You have the strength to walk away, and I the decency to if you truly asked it of me.” Alfred hated to admit he was right. Something in him felt alive again from the simplest contact. The rush of the music and the familiarity of the dance. And Ivan...He had missed him but he would never admit that to himself or anyone else.

And that’s why he decided he wasn’t going to make this easy on the other. Even without leading he pulled the Russian into dips and twirls. Thrusting all his weight and trust into the other. If Alfred fell they both would and in this state he was willing to risk his own reputation to bring him down too. Because he couldn’t stand this, this feeling. Like his heart was being torn from his chest. Like that first dance all those years ago soft and sweet but now forbidden and that longing turned him into some unrecognizable thing. Something he was so certain Ivan couldn’t love, and he was sure that’s why he had left. To bigger and better things leaving him behind.

The heat in their steps was obvious. But love also. It was clearly a battle, anyone looking could see that. But there was love there as well. Neither let the other fall and they blended together with well thought out practice and prediction. Neither actually hurt each other physically but they knew what they were during. Pouring accelerant on an open flame. Awakening and denying old feelings they knew had to be kept locked away and tearing them apart in the process. Funny. No one really realized this sort of destruction. No one really realized the state they were in. 

With a final dip the dance comes to an end and they stay there a moment catching their breath. Or perhaps reveling in this last moment in each other’s arms. Alfred closes his eyes and he can imagine a place centuries ago now. Warm and safe where the world wasn’t out to get him and love was a reality and not a fantasy. It was nice but it wasn’t real. So when he straightens his eyes are cold and though Ivan can still see the stars they seem so far away now. He worries he cannot reach them.

“Nice try Braginsky. But we both know this changes nothing.” His voice is cold but his heart strains. He will not leave for the bar. He will head to his hotel room alone and he will try to forget using any means he can find.

And Ivan just smiles “Not yet Милый(2). But perhaps soon. If we are truly lucky.”

Alfred walks away and he does not look back. If he looked back he would shatter and he feared he’d never be able to pick up the pieces again.

-----------------

1- Sunshine

2- Darling

[alifeasvivid]

An Impossible Situation Pt 3/3, a usukus fic

You’re all gonna hate me and then like me so, so much.

Rating: T+ Warnings: hospitals, medical stuff, angst with a happy ending Summary: For a month, Arthur sits at Alfred’s bedside. Just as he is about to give up, something changes.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Read here on AO3.

The nurses move Alfred into a quiet room, away from the ICU. Kiku comes to see him and tells Arthur in his mysterious way not to worry about expenses and Arthur doesn’t dare question him.

Kiku gently, insistently nudges Arthur out of the hospital to a cozy cafe and Arthur rubs his thumb over the rim of his teacup while Kiku sends a few emails and makes a few phone calls to Alfred’s friends and what Arthur gathers to be his place of employment.

Finally, Kiku sets his phone down and smiles placidly at Arthur.

“So now we wait?” Arthur says uncertainly.

“It would seem so.” Kiku sips his tea. “Perhaps you should speak to him. There is evidence to support that comatose patients can hear what goes on around them.”

“Ah… I’ve heard that too, I suppose.”

Kiku takes another sip of tea. “Alfred always lamented that he was not able to hear you play anymore.”

They part ways, Arthur returning to his apartment only to grab his bass guitar. If he doesn’t amplify it, maybe the hospital will let him strum for Alfred just a bit.

They say it’s fine as long as he keeps it down and for the next two weeks, Arthur plays different songs he knows Alfred used to love. Kiku supplies him with the spare key to Alfred’s apartment, to get familiar things to read or listen to, but it feels far too invasive.

Arthur reads instead from some of Alfred’s books that hadn’t gone with him in the break up. He reads books that he likes, historical fiction and poetry. Alfred had always been more of a sci-fi lover.

Kiku and a few friends that Arthur doesn’t recognize come by intermittently, but the conversation is kept to a minimum. Arthur has the impression that most of Alfred’s friends are saying their goodbyes.

The rhythmic beeping of the monitor and the whir of the ventilator keep time like a metronome.

As the second week comes to an end, the doctor returns to ask Arthur if he’s changed his mind.

He hasn’t.

“His chances aren’t going to improve the longer he stays like this,” she informs him.

“Is he in pain?” Arthur asks.

She hesitates. “Not that we’ve been able to ascertain, no. His superficial injuries are healing, which can be uncomfortable, but he’s on medications for it. But, Mr. Kirkland, his mind—”

“His mind!?” Arthur almost shouts, then coughs and composes himself and speaks more quietly, but no less sternly, “Don’t talk about his mind. You know nothing about him. To you, he’s what? A cadaver?” He shouldn’t take it out on her, she’s only trying to help. “Alfred F. Jones is the stupidest genius I have ever met, he’s brilliant and caring and he leaves his towels on the goddamned bathroom floor and forgets anniversaries, but he never leaves without saying ‘I love you’ and he makes everyone laugh and if you’d ever seen him smile, you’d… you wouldn’t even suggest…” Tears spill out again and Arthur collapses into the chair.

The doctor places her hand gently on Arthur’s shoulder. “Mr. Kirkland, I realize that this is a very difficult position you are in. It is rather unique for us as well. Is there no one who can relieve you of this burden?”

“Alfred’s not a burden, he’s the love of my life,” Arthur mumbles into his hands, but with no hesitation.

“The person you’re describing does sound very special,” the doctor says, “but that person likely no longer exists. If his vital signs were better or if he were more responsive to outside stimuli, I wouldn’t be here right now. But we have explained his situation to you, that it is very bleak, and while there is a non-zero chance he could wake up, I am wondering if you are keeping him like this for your own sake rather than his. Given the terrible situation you are in, I find it perfectly understandable. All I ask is that you consider that possibility. If you do and find that I am wrong, I won’t bring it up again.”

Arthur nods and she leaves. She’s probably not entirely wrong.

As another week goes by, Arthur starts to think that she could be right after all, that while it’s not impossible that Alfred could wake up, it’s highly improbable and he’s not really here, so who is Arthur actually doing this for?

The answer seems obvious.

Arthur takes all of the books home. He takes his duffle bag home. He leaves the bass.

He goes back to work and goes to the hospital afterward. Each evening, he plays songs for Alfred at a low volume and then goes home, where he often doesn’t sleep but pours over every picture of Alfred he has, from digital files saved on his computer to social media posts to physical photographs.

Alfred liked to have real pictures to hold, to show off, to put in frames. Arthur frames one from a few months before they got engaged and places the frame at Alfred’s bedside.

After a month has passed, Arthur decides to give Alfred one more week. Having come to the conclusion that he is mostly holding on for his own sake at this point, he figures that’s fair to both of them.

The few days later, Arthur sits with his feet up against the edge of Alfred’s bed, numbly plucking the chords to Don McLean’s “American Pie.” He sings softly, half-heartedly “So bye, bye, Miss American Pie…” It was a little on the nose, but that’s how Alfred was.

Was.

Arthur sighs. “I love you, Alfred. I hope you’ll forgive me… for all of it.”

Almost immediately, the slow steady beeping of the monitors and the click of the respirator both quicken. Alfred’s eyes move faster underneath his eyelids.

Arthur has almost no time to register it because not ten seconds after that, the room is flooded with nurses, the ones Arthur has become familiar with over the past month.

“Page the doctor!” one of them shouts. “Page her now!”

Arthur’s beloved bass guitar is ripped from his hands and tossed half way across the room as he is shoved out. The doctor brushes past him as she dashes in, the door swinging violently behind her.

In the hall, Arthur paces. He can see and hear all the commotion, but can’t make out what is actually happening.

It’s over very quickly, not more than thirty minutes, but to Arthur it feels like centuries.

Finally, everything settles down and the doctor comes out of the room. She is smiling broadly and only Alfred’s smile has ever made Arthur’s heart sing like that. “Mr. Kirkland, I am so, so happy to report to you that you were right. You made the right call.”

“He’s…?” Arthur can’t even bring himself to say it.

“Yes, he’s awake,” she replies, grinning. “There appear to be no ill-effects to his mobility or his mental processing capabilities which is… I’m not one to use this term, miraculous.”

“He can walk… and talk?” Arthur gasps in disbelief.

“Well he’s not paralyzed, but he’ll need a fair amount of physical therapy before he can walk unassisted again… and he’s a bit raspy from having the tube down his throat so long, but yes, he can… most definitely talk. He’s asking for you.”

“Th-thank you… thank you…” Arthur stammers.

“No, Mr. Kirkland, thank you. I am very happy to have been proven wrong in this case.”

Arthur points at the room. “Can I go—?”

She opens the door for him, “Yes, yes, by all means.”

Alfred rests against the bed, which is tilted up into a more upright position. He beams at Arthur and Arthur nearly falls to his knees. “Hey… Arthur,” Alfred says hoarsely. “You’re here. They told me, but I kinda didn’t believe it.”

Arthur launches himself at Alfred, wrapping his arms around him and kissing his face while still trying to be cautious of all the medical equipment. “Of course I’m here, you absolute jerk,” Arthur sobs into his shoulder.

Alfred hugs Arthur back. “They said I was out for a little more than a month.”

“You were.”

Alfred pushes Arthur back just a little so he can look him in the eyes. “They said you were here every day.”

“I was.”

“You didn’t pull the plug.”

“You’re not an appliance.”

“Ha. I remember that pout. I love that pout. I love you. You love me too, right, Arthur? That’s why you’re here.”

“Yes.”

“I’m really… really glad,” Alfred smiles, pulls Arthur back to him and cries into his shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I hope you’ll forgive me… for all of it.”

“Of course.” Arthur kisses his temple.

They embrace in silence for awhile, only the steady, perfect beeping of the machine to keep time.

“Hey Arthur,” Alfred says.

“Yes?”

“How come you didn’t pull the plug?”

“They told me that you waking up was impossible.”

Alfred laughs, though it’s more of a cough. “Did you tell them I don’t know the meaning of that word?”

[fifielady]

Something; Love

@hetaliamondaychallenge​‘s “If you meant it, kiss me” prompt challenge

Rating: T

Ship: USUK

Note/s: My internet connection suddenly cut off just as I finished this up last night ;-; but at least it’s working now. I know it’s a bit late and this is a bit rushed but I hope you guys enjoy this.

Acting is a distinguished art that involved elements crucial to the point that if done right, everyone involved will be completely enthralled and would forget for even a moment they were a mere spectator detached from the wonderfully different world onstage. Arthur Kirkland, a junior, loved it. The stage, the power, the act. He relished being both on the stage conquering the attention and the hearts of the spectators and out of their view making very sure that the play would go exactly as he instructed them all like the 'theatre tyrant' as he is. (Christened to him ever since he stepped foot inside their highschool's exclusive theatre troupe-- err, drama club.)

However! Oh God, in all things he thrived in his world, how Arthur hated improv. Well... fine, he didn't outright hate it. Improv is an art and he would not drag that down. But, oftentimes, it would drag the whole detailed and scripted act. Worse, it could undermine the whole premise of the plotline! And Arthur would outright shove the person who even dares to deviate from the scene into hell and torture them with his endless taunts to force them to utter the name of that Scottish play every single time they enter his theatre. In actuality, it was the school's theatre, then again, Arthur knows that he'll be stage director his senior year next year so he may as well call it his now anyway.

Hmm, wait... Where was he going with that train of thought exactly--

"Why?!" Alfred shouted as he deflected Arthur's lunge with his sword, every word that came out was further intensified by the clash and clang of their improvised broom-swords."Why do all this when you had it all?!"

-- Ah, yes, this. Arthur spun left when his 'enemy' thrust his broom inches from Arthur's stomach. This was one of their club's monthly destress-from-the-current-play-we-are-doing-this-spring activities. Their current stage director, Elizabeta, was a god-sent in Arthur's eyes to let everyone in the club, techies included, engage in impromptu dramas and stories; competition was always there, of course, and the club was divided into two groups.

"Ha! I had it all?" Agh, Damn it all! He pivots and strikes Alfred's upper thigh just to spite the man who caused this mess. "It-it seems you are mistaken, I have nothing. Nothing!"

Usually, Arthur Kirkland and Alfred F, Jones, would be separated into their respective groups named after the feuding families of Shakespeare's star-crossed lovers (They had personalized red and blue shirts and all). Usually. Also usually, Elizabeta happened liked to mix things up and then proceeded to regroup everyone.

That was how Arthur ended up 'dueling to the death’ against their club's upstart but excellent freshman actor during their impromptu plays. Alfred Jones was the kind of person who devoted himself to the character he portrayed. The kind of person that was so very kind, sometimes naive, and wouldn't hurt a soul to gain notoriety on the stage (which was done quite often in these kinds of environments). Arthur liked that. It didn't hurt him to like like Alfred as well as he liked Alfred's compelling air onstage.

But his feelings for the other won't alleviate the fact that he was angry because someone had the nerve to switch Arthur's 'best-friend-betrays-and-kills-the-crown-prince-because-of-politics' impromptu plot to something that of a dramatic romance just because he forgot his line and muttered something completely different in context in the middle of the fight! And Arthur was left to quickly bite a response and then his character's motives suddenly changed. ("I love my father's kingdom but you have my heart! You know this." "Lies! If you loved me as much, you would've stopped your father from attacking my family!) Someone just had the nerve to throw him off his balance and now--

The traitor used all his strength as he flung his enemy's sword, throwing it far away from the other's hands. It thunked near their audience, almost hitting a student, but both of the actors never took their eyes away from each other. Arthur growled and pushed Alfred down the dusty floor on his ass. The fallen crown prince lay there with his broom-sword meters away and the tip of his former friend's sword centimetres on the left of his chest, where his heart should be. Both of them were panting. sweating out the tension that suddenly overcame the room.

Arthur thinks it was both a wonderful and terrible scene. Wonderful in a sense he's bested the other and continued to his planned narrative for their act. And terrible in a way that if this were the reality they both lived in, the best of friends torn by society's expectation, it would hurt not only the prince but also his heart.

With steely eyes, Arthur uttered the last line of their act, "I have nothing left. Nothing to lose." He thrust his broom and Alfred shouted as if someone had really pained his heart physically and emotionally.

Arthur’s heart clenched.

But in true Alfred F. Jones fashion, he smiled a smile Arthur saw when it was only them alone under the mostly atmosphere of the library with blue eyes untainted by their acting, never lying, and completely threw Arthur's precise and thought-out chess plan in the trash. He gripped Arthur's broom, muscles quivering for effect, and whispered, "You had me... and my... love...!" Alfred went lax.

Applause.

Once again, Alfred won over the narrative and his heart.

------------------------------

Arthur listened to the last goodbyes and see-you-laters of the exiting students. His group won this month's supply of cheesecake reserved in the cafeteria thanks to their performance. It was mostly him and Alfred but he recognizes the efforts of his groupmates into contributing to their act. Personally, Arthur thinks his performance was sub-par today; he may be overly-critical of himself but he knew that when Alfred forgot his line and did improv ruined his tempo.

Alfred. His acting today almost wasn't acting at all. Those eyes and that watery smile that had held his emotions for all the world to see. Was it... love?

No. Arthur shook his head. It couldn't be. Alfred was an actor just like Arthur was going to be a stage director. Excellent and good at what they're supposed to do in their grand world onstage. Flawless.

It was upsetting, somehow. Arthur wouldn't lie that he wished it was real. Not the stab and kill my love part but the one that what Arthur was spared from the pain of unrequited love. It would be lovely, "--If he actually meant it, that he loved me."

"And if I did?"

Arthur spun around faster than his cues onstage. There was Alfred, leaning on the doorway with a no-nonsense look on his face. The intense red of the setting Sun illuminating and heightening every line he’d said and say. "What...?"

"And if I did? If love you, what would you do?" Tight, Arthur’s lungs felt like someone was choking him in the inside.

"Alfred, the activity is over, there's no need for you to continue the act." He deflected, frowning. A mix of dread something else he couldn’t describe fluttered in his chest. Suddenly, he knew this feeling; it was hard to breathe.

"What if I stopped 'acting' when I improvised my line and confessed with my real feelings. What if I told you that I meant what I said. That I love you." Alfred strode to him, purposeful and his face looking a little flushed. "What would you do, Arthur?"

Alfred doesn't lie, he acts. But not right now. Alfred was telling him, Arthur Kirkland, that he loves him. Bleeding hell, yes. He knew the other man wasn’t planning on letting him go any sooner if Arthur didn’t give him a reply in this very moment

"Well, if it were true that you love me," he licked his lips, "If you meant it, kiss me. And maybe, I'll say I love you too."

Alfred pouted but then the corner of his lips curved to a smile. "'Maybe'? Aren't you being too mean on me today? You just stabbed your best friend with a broom."

Arthur smiled back and chuckled, happiness made fluttered in his heart and warmed his cheeks. "How about a kiss for the prince for his troubles?"

"Mn, yeah, that's acceptable. A kiss for your prince from my boyfriend, right?" He leaned down a bit and was wiggling his eyebrows so much, Arthur was tempted to smack him instead. Tempted indeed.

However, a kiss on Alfred's lips was a million times more tempting. Arthur leaned a bit up into those lips and did just that.

They had something. Love.

end

[writingfortoomanyfandoms]

Courtney’s 4K/Quarantine Writing Challenge!!

So, not only did I hit 4,000 followers a little while ago (thank you all so much again for that!) but we’re also all stuck inside for the foreseeable future and I know we’re all bored out of our minds (or at least I am) and I don’t read anywhere near enough fics as I should (and as I want to) so I figured since I’m going a Write Fest on my own blog to celebrate 4K (I’ll link it here if you want to check it out) I thought I could extend that to all of you guys as well!

So yeah, writing challenge, premise is pretty simple, I’ve hosted a couple before (lowkey flops but we move), you read the rules, abide by them, pick a prompt and a character and you write!

As always with me, I’m a nerd and so the prompts are split into categories - there are song lyrics, book quotes, comedy quotes and film quotes to choose from!

I hope you guys want to join in with this! I love reading what you guys write and this could be a really fun way to just keep us all moving and inspired over the next few months :)

The Rules

1) You don’t have to be following me but it would be nice because I’m lonely and want friends plz

2) If your piece of writing is over 500 words, please use the ‘read more’ feature

3) Reblog this post to get the word out (and tag anyone who may be interested!)

4) It’s going to be one person per prompt but if needed I can add more prompts

5) Smut is fine but please leave warnings as appropriate (THOUGH NO UNDERAGE CHARACTER SMUT THANKS)

6) On the back of that one, no inappropriate pairings pleaseeeeee

7) Also please make sure you leave appropriate warnings at the beginnings of fics if any sensitive subjects are brought up (e.g. mental health etc)

8) Ships and OC’s are welcome

9) Tag me in your writing!

10) Use the hashtag #Courts4KWritingChallenge

11) If you want to enter send me an ask with the prompt you want and the pairing you’ll be writing it with

12) The deadline for this is 15th July (this can be extended if y’all need it)

Characters/People/Pairings

1) Any of the BoRhap dudes and their characters 

2) (BoRhap!)Queen members (Freddie only platonically)

3) The Hargreeves Children (older!Five only)

4) Richard Madden (+ his characters)

5) Taron Egerton (+ his characters)

6) Rocketman!Bernie Taupin and Ray Williams

7) Smosh Members

8) Jake Gyllenhaal (+ all his various characters)

9) Chris Evans (+ his characters)

10) Sebastian Stan (+ his characters)

11) Any of the 5sos guys (poly!5sos fics also both welcomed and encouraged)

12) Stranger Things peeps (Steve, Billy + Robin/their cast counterparts)

13) One Direction guys (Niall, Harry + Louis)

14) Pevensie children

15) Sex Education (cast + characters)

Prompts

Song Lyrics

“Wake up sunshine, somebody loves you” - Wake Up, Sunshine by All Time Low

“When I take a look at my life and all of my crimes you're the only thing that I think I got right” - Lover of Mine by 5 Seconds of Summer ( @angiefangirlworld-2 w/ Ashton)

“Kiss in the kitchen like it’s a dance floor” - Sunflower Vol.6 by Harry Styles

“There'll never be another, I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life” - Black and White by Niall Horan ( @unn--known​ w/ someone from 1D)

“Let's keep each other safe from the world” - Lucky People by Waterparks

“Never wanted to be the boy next door, always thought I'd be something more” - Drowse by Queen

“And when I touch you I feel happy inside, it's such a feeling that my love I can't hide” - Hold Your Hand by The Beatles ( @flick-ofthe-wrist​ w/ Roger Taylor)

“It’s hard to think you could ever hate me, but everything's feeling different now” - Too Young by Louis Tomlinson

“All I can do is say that these arms were made for holding you” - 18 by One Direction

“I waited for her call - she always kept me waiting” - The Girl at the Rock Show by Blink-182

Book Quotes

“I am so busy keeping my head above water that I scarcely know who I am, much less who anyone else is” - The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath

“Don’t ever tell anybody anything. If you do you start missing everybody” - The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger 

“Sometimes, I feel the past and the future pressing so hard on either side that there’s no room for the present at all.” - Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh

“I have measured out my life in coffee spoons” - The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot

“As far as I’m concerned, I came out of the womb spouting cynicism and wishing for rain.” - Solitaire by Alice Oseman

“We cross our bridges as we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and the presumption that once our eyes watered.” - Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead by Tom Stoppard

“Sometimes people are beautiful. Not in looks. Not in what they say. Just in what they are.” I Am The Messenger by Marcus Zusak

“I love her, and that’s the beginning and end of everything” - The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Flitzgerald

“I just want you to know that you’re very special and the only reason I’m telling you is that I don’t know if anyone else ever has” - The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chebowsky ( @coupscarat w/ Damien Haas)

“Was there some kind of rule against drop kicking arseholes in the face? Probably. They always had rules against things that needed to be done” - Made You Up by Francesca Zappia

Comedy Quotes

“You have to treat everybody’s views, no matter what they believe, with respect” “What, even idiots?” Outnumbered

“Well you shouldn’t be prejudiced against fat people, thin people… men who have turned into women, women who have turned into men, gay people, ginger people… people from Liverpool” Outnumbered 

“Stand back kids, this school’s insurance policy doesn’t cover blown minds” Bad Education

“Do you think you could stop being so cheeky?” “Do you think you could stop asking stupid questions?” Outnumbered

“I spend my entire life around people. As much as I would like to, it’s almost impossible to avoid them” The Inbetweeners ( @queen-bunnyears​ w/ Ben Hardy or Sebastian Stan)

“We’re very hufflepuff here, wouldn’t you be happier in slytherin?” Fresh Meat ( @adrenaline-roulette​ w/ Ben Hardy)

“What’s the best way to make friends?” “Tell a woman you love her, and she says ‘I think we’re just friends’” Jimmy Carr, Jon Richardson

“There’s four things you can be in life: sober, tipsy, drunk and hungover. Tipsy is the only one that you’re not crying” James Acaster

“What’s that on your shorts?” “Oh - it’s called excitement” Smosh

“Full disclosure - I could just be an arsehole” Smosh

Film Quotes

“To me, you are perfect” - Love, Actually

“I wish I knew how to quit you” - Brokeback Mountain

“If you start crying, I’m gonna have to pretend to start crying” - Gifted ( @beysenpai​ w/ Chris Evans)

“I’m with you ‘til the end of the line” - Captain America: The Winter Soldier ( @mamaskillerqueen​ w/ Steve Harrington)

“Most of the time I just want to staple things to her head” - Bridget Jones’ Diary ( @hardforbenhardy​ w/ Ben Hardy)

“We’re family. We believe in each other. That’s everything” - Bohemian Rhapsody

“Look around: this guy basically lives in a clue board” - Knives Out

“Too many guys think I'm a concept, or I complete them, or I'm gonna make them alive. But I'm just a fucked-up girl who's lookin' for my own peace of mind; don't assign me yours.” - Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

"What I'm saying is--and this is not a come-on in any way, shape or form--is that men and women can't be friends because the sex part always gets in the way." - When Harry Met Sally ( @acdeaky​ w/ Ben Hardy)

“You’re loved and have been loved. You’re one of the lucky ones” - Irreplaceable You

[lalahbug]

Snapped!Canada x Reader

Fandom: Hetalia Word Count: 1,805 My Masterlist Warnings/disclaim: general Some sexual themes, I kept it pretty PG-13 though. Author’s Note: (continued under story) Originally posted on DeviantArt, under the same username, on 11/05/2012. Revamped/edited in 2020. ___ is a blank for your name/oc/whatever you prefer Written in 3rd person Line/header is to separate paragraphs to indicate time skips, as Tumblr hates my formatting. Story under cut

          "Why don't you just shut up, you bloody frog!" England screamed at France.  

          "Why don't you make me?" He replied childishly, sticking out his tongue.  

          Somehow at every world meeting, they got into a fight. ___ had been coming with England for a while because he asked her to after she had found out he was a nation. She wasn’t really big on world issues and usually tried to avoid then, because she was secretly a nation too.  

          She didn’t want anyone to know though so she had been avoiding these meetings for years, but once Arthur told her he represented England she was forced to come. Arthur wanted her there to support him, but she never really did. Once she noticed how much Arthur yelled at the meeting, she would sit far away from him and next to Matthew, he represents Canada. He’s a quiet guy and very sweet, although no one really ever saw him.  

          ___ and Matt would talk in and out of the meetings, for a few years. Eventually, ___ got to know Matt very well and started developing feelings for the cute Canadian. She would defend him whenever she could, especially when people tried to sit on him. Even though a lot of people didn’t see him, ___ always did.  

          "Hey, Russia!" ___ shouted at the tall man, he gave her a childish evil glare, that usually scared everyone. But she wouldn’t be scared of him especially if it meant protecting Matthew.  

          "Please, call me Ivan."  

          "Ivan, don't sit on Matthew."  

          "Who?"  

          "The seat you’re about to sit in, Matt is already in it!" He stared at her blankly, making her sigh. ___ stood up and pulled Ivan to her seat. "Here just have my seat." She really just didn't want the Russian to hurt Matt.  

          "Oh, why thank you, ____."  

          "No problem, I was doing it for Matt-”  

          Two strong arms wrapped around her waist, cutting her sentence off, the arms pulled her into some hard. It was Ivan's chest and his arms were locked around her waist. "Why don't we share your seat?"  

          "Ivan you're drunk, your breath reeks of vodka."  

          "I am not drunk; I just simply have been drinking."  

          "Whatever, let me go!"  

          "You're not scared of me that is why I like you."  

          "Let me g-" She was cut off by two strong lips pressing against hers. ___ squeaked and immediately tried to push him off of her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Matthew get up and run off. ___ hit Ivan on the chest and struggled against him even more as she heard Alfred call after his brother. Finally, Ivan let her go. ___ quickly ran after Matt but couldn't find him. Soon after that Germany called attention to the meeting and got issues resolved. Everyone was soon dismissed and England gave her a ride home.

          A couple of weeks had passed since ___ had talked to the Canadian; he wouldn't reply to any of her messages nor showed up to the meetings. So once again, she called him and waited nervously as the phone seemed to ring forever.  

          "What?" A groggy and rude voice demanded.  

          "Alfred, give Matt his phone! I really need to talk to him." Any happiness she had when the phone stopped ringing was replaced with annoyance for the American answering Matt’s phone.  

          "What makes you think he wants to talk to you?"  

          "Alfred F. Jones! Give Matthew his phone! What happened to you? I thought you wanted me to talk to Matt and tell him what I should have before,” she almost whispered the last part because her embarrassment kicked in remembering Alfred telling her to confess to Matthew.  

          "Just come over if it's so important to you then." Then he hung up and ___’s embarrassment was quickly replaced with annoyance once again. She quickly grabbed a long thick jacket that went to her knees and her snow boots. Collecting her purse and keys, she stormed out the door and trudged into the knee-deep snow.  

          The cold air just made her calm down, making her think more clearly. But before she worked out the flaws to this plan she was already to Matt's house. She knocked on the door and quickly stuffed your hands back into her pockets. Then Matt opened the door, his clothes were baggy and disheveled and his hair was uncombed.  

          Matt just stared at ___ with her hood and hair flaked with snow. Her beautiful face had been pinched red from the cold wind. Her (h/l)(h/c) hair was a mess from the wind and clear signs of her pulling her hood back up many times. Matthew then felt a very cold embrace from ___.  

          "I was so worried about you!" ___ hugged him tightly, then looked up at him with watery tears, she had missed him so much.  

          "Would you stop that? It's really annoying. No one ever asked you to worry about me." His voice was level and mean.  

          "W-what are you talking about?" She looked at him with dismay. "Was it you on the phone?" He just nodded. "What is wrong with you, Matthew?"  

          "Nothing is wrong, what's wrong with you?" ___ grumbled before pushing away from Matt and going inside. "Well, just come on in why don't you." Matthew spat at her slamming the door.  

          "I will, it's freezing out there!" She took off her jacket and kicked off her boots. ___ looked around at the place and it was a mess. Normally, Matt had a clean organized place, now, looked like a tornado had ripped through his home.  

          "What the hell do you want, ___."  

          "What do you mean what do I want?! I haven't seen you in weeks. You were ignoring my messages and you never showed up to the meetings!" She let her voice raise a bit.  

          "What does it matter to you? Go kiss your boyfriend because I sure as hell won't be kissing an ugly girl like you." ___ just stood there staring at the Canadian. He was not the Matt she had grown to love and she was becoming worried and scared. She did what her body would let her do, without freezing up, she smacked him as hard as she could. He just laughed, it wasn't like funny laugh; it was a crazy laugh. She grabbed him by his shirt.  

          "What have you done with my Matthew?!"  

          "I was never yours!" He growled at her.  

          "I defended him! I talked to him!"  

          "That doesn't make me yours!"  

          "I love him and I want him to be mine so where the hell is he? Tell me because you surely aren't the same man I love and that used to shyly compliment me. My Matt would have never called me ugly." She started to break down. "I thought you loved me too!" She yelled at him before starting to sob. She gripped the front of his shirt while crying before pounding on his chest. "You are my Matt, and no matter what you do I am going to love you! So call me ugly all you want. It will never change the fact that I lo-"  

          Suddenly the world was blurry and her head was hurting. Her wrists were pinned against the wall and there was a pair of soft and firm lips against hers. Matt had pinned her against the wall and was picking her up off the ground now. Wrapping her legs around his waist and forcefully shoving his tongue into her mouth. There was nothing planned or polite about this. It was a spur of the moment and very passionate. His tongue wrestled with hers and quickly won and started uncovering any secrets in her mouth. Matthew's hands were roaming her body and started to pull up her shirt. Before he could get off any of her clothing, he broke the kiss. Air was stinging her lungs as it entered once again and it wasn't easy getting it back into her system though. As they both panted sharing the small area of air.  

          "I love you," Matthew said once his breath returned and he laid his forehead on hers. His hands started to fumble with the buttons on her shirt.  

          "I love you too. We don't have to do this now, Matt."  

          "No, we do need to. I have been waiting long enough and you're not going to make me wait any longer." With that he ripped her shirt open, buttons flying everywhere. She gasped and saw the look in his eye as his hands started rubbing on her sides. He wasn't going to take no for an answer knowing that she loved him.  

          "May I request a bed then?"  

          The sexual gleam in his eyes flickered and a slow sexy smile graced his handsome features. "As long as I don't have to stop anything I am doing on the way."  

          ___ woke up in the dark by herself, she got up and found one of Canada's hockey shirts and pulled it on. She walked through the house looking for her Canadian lover. Finding him on the couch in his boxers watching TV. She smirked at him before walking over and sitting on his stomach, clearly pulling him out his reverie, making him jump a bit.  

          "Of course not." With the last words the Canadian's mouth attached to the (s/c) skin on her neck and started to bite and suck meanly. ___ moaned and arched her back slightly. He hugged her body close to his so he could start walking to his room.

          "Hello, my dear." She smiled sweetly at him.  

          "Hey. Sleep well?" He turned his gaze to her, giving her a soft smirk.  

          "Yeah, why weren't you there when I woke up?"  

          "I needed to think." He then seemed to notice, all she was wearing was one of his hockey shirts. "Are you trying to start a round two?"  

          She giggled. "Depends. Can I have the sweet side of you this time? Because I have a few bruises that are going to take a bit to heal."  

          "No. You’ll know when he's back by the cleanliness of the house." ___ looked around, still a disaster zone.  

          "I guess he's gone?"  

          "Well, now I’m a bit aroused and still angry at Russia, so yeah, he's gone."

          "Well, I am okay with whatever side you have Matt. I love you. Dark or not, although the dark side is a bit of a bonus sometimes,” she winked at him.  

          "Oh shut up already and let's get busy."  

          "Don't tell me wha-" He cut her off with a rough kiss and pulled off the shirt.  

          “You're mine. I will do what I want with you, problem?"  

          She kissed him back gently. "As long as you love me and care for me. Then never."

Author’s Note: Continued On dA, I put this as a 2P!Canada, but someone told me it’s more Snapped!Canada, which now with editing this again, I agree on. So here it’ll be Snapped!Canada, on dA I’ll leave it as 2P!

[katjakun]

Rusame Completed Fanfictions List

Dear rusame pals, are you desperate to find a new fanfiction? Worry not, I made a list of my favorite fanfictions so you don’t have to look.

Yea, since I had a rusame fever I was looking through every completed fanfictions I could find. Here you have full stories and one shots (separately) from my favorites to good ones. Just so we’re clear, it’s jUsT mY oPiNiOn. Yeah, here we go:

FULL STORIES 

1. You and I will Fall in Love by Shatterdoll.

Summary and Rating:

Much to America's horror, Russia decides that the two of them are going to fall in love. And the more he fights it the stronger Russia's determination is to woo him, even if it means taking drastic measures...

M-Rated

2.  Trick or Treat by NekoKaiya 

Summary and Rating:

Alfred is a serial killer, Ivan is the head detective in charge of finding him. So what happens when they meet without knowing that and start getting very friendly?

M-Rated

3.  Oblivious by Locked Up

Summary and Rating: 

Alfred Jones isn't popular. Instead of sports and friends he gets comics and the daily abuse of Ivan Braginski, his unofficial nemesis. But when he receives a note from a secret admirer, he learns something rather interesting about this "enemy"...slash.

T-Rated

4.  Ivan Braginsky's Guide To Taking Care Of An Alien by Zero_Gravity

Summary and Rating:

Ivan has never been the best with people, often ending up alone. Perhaps that's why he became a writer, why he agreed to move, why his life took the direction it did. He never saw anything remarkable about it, accepting it simply as the way things were. Even if it left him incredibly lonely.

And then he meets Alfred, who claims to be an alien hiding from the government.

Ivan has a lot of decisions to make that will affect both of their lives.

Rated: Teen and Up

5.  No Choice by DaughterOfTheRevolution

Summary and Rating:

Russian mob boss Ivan Braginsky isn't denied anything; if he wants the American boy to join him for a candlelit evening then he will, if he wants the American boy to share his bed then he will. College student Alfred F. Jones has no choice in the matter whatsoever.

Rated: Explicit

6.  Not an American by DaughterOfTheRevolution 

Summary and Rating:

"You really must not be an American as you claim to be," Ivan then spoke up after a short silence. Alfred never turned to him however, he remained standing with his back toward him, too afraid to turn and face the decision he made. "You adore that man too much." Alfred grit his teeth, shut his eyes and balled his fists. "He saved me from you. Of course I care for him," Alfred bit out. What he said could have been met with a harsh response, but Ivan seemed more amused than anything else, judging by the sound of his laughter. "And yet it is because of him that you are forced into my arms. How funny, da?"

Rated: Explicit

7.  A Storm of Sunflowers by CreamPuffBunny

Summary and Rating:

With war taxes rising and living becoming harder, Alfred will do anything to save their farm even if it means giving himself to Lord Ivan.

M-Rated

8.  A Time To Love by Mizuni_no_Neko

Summary and Rating: 

Detective Alfred Jones and Detective Ivan Braginsky have been partners for years, and for years their constant fighting has been a bane on their department. But when the gang crime unit requests them for a special undercover assignment, they'll have to put aside their differences and act like the perfect, happy couple to get close to Kiku Honda, the leader of the Rising Sun, and take down his operation. But between their own fighting, enemies that seem to know too much, and something brewing in the city's underworld, can they learn to get along...or even something more?

M-Rated

9. Dear Diary by ai-08

Summary and Rating: 

Alfred F. Jones isn't gay. Just read his diary; you'll see.

T-Rated

10.  American Standards by Emerald-Leaves

Summary and Rating: 

What started out as an embarrassing situation for Russia leads him into an exciting competition involving his once greatest rival.

T-Rated

11.  With You by Galactic_Ink

Summary and Rating:

Alfred and Ivan have been inseparable friends all though high school, but that reputation was ruined just a day before school ended. This sudden end leads to four years of silence until Alfred calls Ivan out of the blue for a wedding.

M-Rated

12. Undying Urge by NekoKaiya

Summary and Rating: 

England gets drunk one faithful night and casts a spell on Russia that reverts Russia back to his teenage years. Everybody finds this younger Ivan hot as hell. Alfred makes it his goal to save Russia from others, what will happen?

M-Rated

13. When Night Falls by rexlover180

Summary and Rating:

They're called demons, the creatures that cause so much pain and suffering in the world. Born from the dark wishes of humanity, they only seek to destroy. As a half-demon, Alfred wants nothing more than to right the wrongs of his past. As a human, Ivan won't let anything get in the way as he seeks revenge. Their common goal; kill them all.

T-Rated

14.  Playing With Fire by rexlover180

Summary and Rating:

Many years ago, a man known now as The Dictator attempted to rule the world with Dark Magic. Due to his immortality, the public was forced to freeze him in time. A thousand years later, a university student, Ivan Braginsky, has shown his prowess and abilities to the point of being hired at the largest Detainment Center in the world. His job? To help guard The Dictator.

M-Rated

15.  Nymphetamine Addiction by DestineyTot

Summary and Rating:

All Ivan wanted was one taste, one little drop of that sweet blood on his tongue. What he got instead was a smiling, beautiful blonde and an unexpected relationship out of the whole mess.

M-Rated

16. The Trickster by rexlover180

Summary and Rating: 

The wall has been up for centuries. Ivan knows it must be protected, but not why. Alfred knows that he needs to get out, explore the world. The level of magic he possesses, however, attracts Ivan's attention, as well as the attention of Ivan's...advisor. The two clash immediately and neither are going to back down, on any issue that may arise. No matter the magnitude.

T-Rated

Honorable Mention:

yeah i know xd i just wanted to point that the next fanfiction is still in progress, but i need to put this here.

i love it

Drawing Dead by Drewyth

Summary and Rating: 

Alfred needs money. He works in an obscure Russian restaurant, lives in a shitty apartment with his ex, and rent is on the rise. He thinks he’s found the perfect gig—Until his side job draws the attention of some of Manhattan’s less savory characters. He grows close to one, a mob boss referred to as the “Old Bear.” Ivan Braginsky may offer protection, and even a way to make quick cash. Then again, he could also prove the least savory of them all. "Drawing Dead is when a player has absolutely no chance to win a hand, no matter what card is dealt next."

M-Rated

ONE-SHOTS

1.  why do they call this war cold, baby, when this line is so hot? 

Made by anonymous author, doesn’t have a rating or summary.

2.  Game Night for The Lonely Hearts Club by Shatterdoll

Summary and Rating:

Russia visits the empty houses of other nations when he's feeling particularly lonely. On one particular visit to one of America's homes the occupant unexpectedly shows up.

M-Rated

3.  This is Not a Love Song by Shaterdoll

Summary and Rating:

What was so wrong with hooking up with an old enemy every now and then to lick each other's wounds? Especially when they are so good at the licking part...

M-Rated

4.  It's really more of a hate-hate thing by Niki-the-awesome

Summary and Rating: 

Alfred and Ivan watch as their two presidents meet one another on live television. All is calm, before Ivan kicks Alfred underneath the table. The epic battle of footsies has begun... 

K-Rated

5. Asymmetrical by TheRocknRollBeauty

Summary and Rating:

Russia likes things symmetrical. He likes America very much because of this: but he would like him much more if he didn't have that annoying, off-putting little cowlick.

T-Rated

6.  An Unorthodox Approach by blommabelle

Summary and Rating:

Russia decides to take France's friendship advice and is beyond surprised with the unexpected results that come from it.

T-Rated

7.  Fire and Ice by eloquentelegance

Summary and Rating:

These are the facts. 1. You are nursing a flask of vodka. 2. America and Japan are roaring drunk. 3. Japan is a very affectionate drunk. 4. You need more vodka.

K-Rated

8.  Chewier Stops the Chatter by DaughterOfTheRevolution

Summary and Rating:

Alaska's big mouth calls for daddy to order a large shipment of Chewy Graham Slams.

T-Rated

***

ok guys, that’s it! i hope you’ll enjoy the fics, don’t forget to give kudos to the authors! 

[brahms--heelshire]

Red and Silver and Green and Gold (USUK)

(A/N): The only reason that this is so rushed is because I was trying to finish it so it wouldn’t need to be a multi-chaptered fic. Luckily I succeeded. Yeehaw.

“Alfred Jones,” I called, lifting my robes over my ankles to run after the boy sprinting ahead of me, “No running in the corridors!”

“You’re breaking the rules by running after me,” he retorted, running backwards so he could look at me while he talked.

I knew what was going to happen before it did. Alfred wasn’t facing where he was going. A stairwell turned and… Alfred fell like a bag of bricks. The stairwell hit him in the head. I cursed under my breath, running as fast as I could to check his pulse. I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding when I felt a steady pulse. But the nasty bump on his head didn’t look too good. I needed to get him to Madam Pomfrey.

Unluckily for me, I was weak. As strong as my magic was, I was not very physically strong. It took me a few tries before I realized that I could use magic to carry him.

And I didn’t explain to anyone I passed why I had an unconscious Alfred was suspended in the air with me until I got Alfred to the nurse.

“He’s nothing but trouble,” she mumbled as she checked his vital signs.

“You’re right, ma’am.” I nodded.

“You’re no better, yourself, Mister Prefect. Despite your title, you can’t manage not getting into petty fights with him.” She gestured towards Alfred, who was still lying on the small bed.

I didn’t reply, choosing to sit in one of the chairs situated near the cot and stay silent. It was late, so all of my classes were over. The only reason I was wandering the corridors at all was that I was getting my nightly tea. Needless to say, I didn’t end up getting my tea.

I pushed my eye mask from the top of my head back to my eyes.

“Wake me up when he’s conscious,” I mumbled drowsily.

“So you do have a soft spot for Mr. Jones,” she commented.

“No, I just… it’s my fault that he got hurt, so I need to apologize.”

“Okay.” She sounded skeptical.

I ignored her, falling asleep surprisingly fast.

I woke to Madam Pomfrey shaking my shoulder. I pushed my face mask onto the top of my head.

“Alfred’s going to be perfectly fine, except for one thing…” Her voice trailed off.

“What is it?” I asked, looking over to where Alfred was sitting up on the cot.

“He seems to have a bit of amnesia.”

“Anything else?” I asked.

“Well, he’s made a few incorrect assumptions about why you’re here.” Madam Pomfrey kept her voice quiet so that Alfred wouldn’t hear, “He seemed quite happy about it and I didn’t have the heart to correct him.”

Alfred’s face practically lit up when he noticed that I was looking at him. “Babe! You’re awake! I just got up and I don’t really remember much about anything that’s happened since my first year here at Hogwarts, but I’m sure it’ll come back eventually. So don’t take it personally that I don’t remember too much about being with you. I totally recognize your face though. I just can’t place it in my head. It’s weird.”

I knew that people with strong feelings about someone could sometimes faintly remember that person despite amnesia, but I didn’t know that that hate was a strong enough emotion. I was tempted to tell him the truth, but when I looked back at that purely happy grin, I couldn’t bear to.

“Oh! Yes. I, too, am quite sad that you forgot about everything we did together, but don’t worry. We can make more memories, love.” I mentally slapped myself in the face. I was talking to my enemy, Alfred F. Jones, a Gryffindor, like a lovesick idiot.

“You’re right! Let’s go!” Alfred kicked the covers off of himself and got up, reaching for my hand. I let him take it, accepting my fate.

“Don’t let him get too far alone. He might get lost. Gradually try to reintroduce him to things from his life,” Madam Pomfrey told me.

“Okay. I’ll try my hardest,” I replied, giving her a salute as Alfred and I left her office.

“So what do you want to do first?” Alfred asked once we left the room.

“We have classes in a few hours, so it’s time to get some rest. Go ahead to the Gryffindor common room. We have our first class together, so if you’re confused about where to go, I’ll meet you at your common room in the morning.” I ran one of my hands through his hair, trying to act more romantic. “Try not to miss me too much, because I know I’ll be missing you.”

“If even amnesia won’t let me forget that heavenly face of yours, I know that time without you will eat away at me.” Alfred gave me a smile.

Once I got back to the Slytherin common room, I silently panicked. I knew that someone would let Alfred into the Gryffindor common room. Despite not being a Prefect, he was practically their golden boy.

That’s why we fought most of the time.

He was a classic Gryffindor. Brave and strong. Definitely heroic. But dumb as shit.

I was a classic Slytherin. Snappy and rude. Sarcastic as hell. But unlike some other Slytherins, I wasn’t bigoted or anything. I didn’t want to be a Death Eater. It was annoying how people assumed that about every Slytherin. I didn’t care that Alfred was muggle-born and I was a pureblood. We fought because we disagreed, not because of prejudice.

It didn’t help that Alfred was rather handsome and I was rather gay. I couldn’t help finding him somewhat attractive. Hormones and puberty made it weird. Every time we argued, I couldn’t help but notice his masculine charm.

I tried not to bang my head on my nightstand. Pretending to date Alfred would be a struggle. Especially with not taking advantage of him. I knew for a fact that Alfred had never kissed anyone- I mean, neither had I, but that wasn’t important- and I didn’t want him to lose his first kiss to someone who he only dated because of a misunderstanding.

I fell asleep with a foggy mind.

Once I woke up and got dressed, I rushed to the portrait that marked the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, leaning on the wall as I waited for Alfred.

He rushed out very last minute, waving as he spotted me.

“Hi Arthur!” He took my hand awkwardly and I noticed that his palms were quite sweaty. “I’m not one hundred percent sure how to tie my tie.”

I sighed. “That’s okay. I’ll do it for you.”

I felt the eyes of every Gryffindor who hadn’t already left for class on us as I tied Alfred’s tie for him. I could almost hear their thoughts. Wondering why Alfred and I were getting along. Wondering why our faces were almost close enough to touch and we weren’t screaming at each other. Wondering why he intertwined our fingers the moment I finished tying his tie.

I tried to push the thoughts from my head as I walked with Alfred.

“So tell me about you,” he said.

“What do you want to know about me?” I asked, fixing my eyes on a point in the distance so I wouldn’t have to make uncomfortable eye contact with Alfred or any other student.

“What did you like to do with me? If I’m setting up dates and stuff, I at least wanna know what you like.” His manner of speaking almost made me smile. It just sounded so irrefutably Alfred.

I tried to think of a quick lie. Something that we would enjoy doing on a date. And it clicked. “Well, we liked to stargaze. You would get so excited over pointing to the stars and telling me which ones they were. And we would sit up on the roof where none of the professors could see us and kiss until the sun rose.”

“Sounds nice. I might not remember that specifically, but I do remember the names of the stars. Maybe if you wanna do it sometimes, I’ll make it a night you won’t forget.” Alfred winked at me.

I tried- and failed- to hold back my laughter. “Your amnesia puns are truly… unforgettable.”

And we laughed all the way to class, where we walked in together, fingers entwined.

I pulled my hand away from Alfred’s when we walked in.

“Mister Kirkland. Mister Jones. You’re late for Potions class.”

“I’m quite sorry, sir. You can ask Madam Pomfrey if you need testimony as to why we were late.”

“It’s okay, Arthur. I know you have stuff to do in the mornings, but I must be taking ten points from Gryffindor for this.” The professor favored Slytherins. It was obvious. I almost didn’t want to take the bullet that would be defending Alfred, but I knew that no-one else would. And if Alfred defended himself, he’d end up in more trouble for back-talk.

“Ask Madam Pomfrey for Alfred’s excuse. He’s late for the same reason that I am,” I grumbled reluctantly.

“Yeah! Me and Artie were late for the same reason.”

I cringed at the nickname, but continued to my seat nonetheless. Alfred took the seat next to me.

“Since you two are the last ones to arrive, you’ll be partners for this experiment,” the professor said.

“What are we doing today, Professor?” I asked, sitting up straight in my seat.

“We’re doing potion identifying. Each pair has a cauldron in front of them and the assignment is to identify the potion. There is just one rule. You’re not allowed to drink any of the potions. Your time starts… now.” He started a stopwatch on his desk, leaning back in his chair to read something off of a scroll.

Alfred looked distressed.

“Something wrong?” I asked, looking at the color of the potion. It wasn’t unique. I knew hundreds of potions that could’ve been.

“I don’t remember anything about potions,” Alfred whispered.

“Don’t worry. That’s not the amnesia. You never paid attention in potions class.” I licked my lips as I investigated the strange steam coming from the liquid. “Just leave it to me.”

“Okay. I trust you.” He pulled parchment and a pencil out of his bag, not wasting money on a quill and ink.

The steam and the color didn’t signify any particular potion, so I took a whiff. The intoxicating smell alone should’ve clued me in on what it was, but I wanted to tell exactly what I smelled. And it was perfect.

Old books, earl grey, and something inherently masculine. Like Axe shampoo mixed with sweat.

I glanced at Alfred, tempted to try to prove my theory. I leaned over to smell his hair and it was the smell. I silently cursed as I looked back at the potion.

I raised my hand and the professor called on me almost immediately.

“Yes Arthur?”

“The potion is Amortentia,” I grumbled.

“And can you tell me how you got to that conclusion?” He asked.

“The smell. It smelled like things that I love. That, coupled with the color and the steam, was all that I needed to know what potion it is.” I kept my answer as vague as possible. I didn’t want anyone knowing that I realized it because I knew I was falling for Alfred F. Jones.

“Correct. Ten points to Slytherin.” The professor smirked as he added my points to the chart.

I couldn’t help but think of that Amortentia every time that I looked at Alfred after that. During that week, my daily routine was just helping Alfred and avoiding any kisses from him. And classes, but those were far less important than managing Alfred.

It was all going perfectly until one night.

“Why won’t you kiss me?” Alfred asked, pointing a finger at me.

“I just feel like we’re moving too fast,” I lied.

“Tell the truth!”

“You don’t understand anything!”

“Well then maybe we should break up!”

And shouting at each other on the roof, I saw something click in his head. Memories. That’s all it took. Shouting at each other like we normally did. Alfred’s brain was so used to fighting with me that that was all it took to trigger his memories.

“Alfred,” I whispered.

“Oh wait, I guess we can’t break up if we were never together in the first place.” He paused, glaring at me. “Couldn’t you have told me the truth from the beginning?” he shouted, “Instead of just trying to embarrass me?”

“Shut up! You don’t know anything! I love you, you idiot. And you looked so happy when you thought I was your boyfriend. I couldn’t hurt you like that.”

“Well I remember everything now.” He took a deep breath. “And you know, since you love me too, I think that I wanna keep dating you.” Alfred pulled me closer to him. “Look, a shooting star.” He pointed up and, lo and behold, there it was.

I silently wished for Alfred to kiss me. He gently pushed my hair out of my face. I knew it was the right moment. Our lips got closer until they finally touched. And it was glorious.

And as we kissed under the stars, I thought that maybe that imaginary stargazing date was finally ours.

[neioo]

Fanfic Rec! ( • ω • ) 

Rules I’m constraining myself to: I’ve either had to read the fic more than three times and/or have thought about it years in the future. (This means I’ll have to leave out some other fics I really enjoyed reading and thought were well written) 

A bunch of different fandoms will be under the cut! (as I expose what I ship across the board too lol)

We’ll Meet Again by George deValier (usuk) (complete)

This is the first fic of george’s that I read, and I’ve read it multiple times, and it’s been integral in my shaping of characterizations within my own hetalia fics. I could include all of his works, but this one stands out the most. I also listen to the vera verse songs and get extremely nostalgic, so there’s that

WW2 AU. London pub owner Arthur Kirkland is driven to distraction by loud, brash American fighter pilot Alfred Jones. Unable to stop it, Arthur finds himself falling for Alfred’s charms… just as the pilot is preparing to leave for war.

Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue… by anonymous (pruaus) (unfinished)

This fic is odd in the sense that I found it while suddenly getting on a pruaus kick, during which I followed a bunch of pruaus people on tumblr. Eventually, I would find out years later that I was going to the same college as one of these people and become friends with them. So not only does this fic have a nostalgic tie to it, I find the story brilliantly written with wonderful characterization, though it is in a weird format.

Inspired by the film 500 Days of Summer, I’d really like to see a couple meet and fall in love, but eventually one (or both) ends the relationship because they realise it’s not working/they can’t imagine spending their whole life with this person/what have you. I’d really love to see how the relationship develops, with the happy times and the eventual bad times as it falls apart, and then the hope of finding love elsewhere.

Redeemer by CocoaCoveredGods (L x Light, Mello x Matt, Mello x Light) (complete)

I can’t tell you how happy I am that I found this fic after 6 or so years. I can’t tell you how nostalgic is makes me for my death note phase, remember when I would read this in my mom’s office, minimizing the fic on a laptop I hope she never checked. The writing is phenomenal. The format on this site is wonky, but doable to read. (I’m even reformatting it myself right now). It’s mostly everything I could have wanted in a death note fic; it even inspired my own very complex death note AU back in the day. In some alternate reality, I wrote that instead of AWH. I plan to maybe make a personal paper copy for myself of this fic I love it so much. It is on the level of George’s stuff on how much it means to me.

The story takes place *after* Death Note ends, although the main characters have not died. Here the Yellowbox Warehouse is essentially the pinnacle of L's 6-year long offensive against Kira, who believes L to be dead, when he really isn't. L faked his death, and proceeded with the case behind the cover of his three top heirs, Mello, Matt and Near. Kira himself doesn't succumb to his defeat, but is instead rescued at the last moment by his nemesis lover who decides that a more apropos end to the God of the New World is not death--but redemption, in the form of a new case and a 5th so-called Kira, that L and Light must bring down together... or risk losing everything. Yes, there is actually a plot LOL Buuuut, this puppy has yaoi and pairing's aplenty. LxLight and MelloxMatt are technically the mains, but when you cut straight down to it, this is a story about Light and Mello and how they go from hate to need, from enemies to lovers, and maybe even something more...

and indeed there will be time --orginally by lawlietismyfavorite, but they have since deleted their account :’( (the fic is still on AO3, though!) (L x Light) (unfinished)

I love death note, okay? After the beautiful live action series came out (the recent japanese one not that fucking netflix shit), I felt the need to read some fanfic of the series again, and I found this. HOLY SHIT. It’s a soulmate AU that goes through the plot line of the manga/show and fuck. Light is Ace?? The writing is so good?? 

L is the greatest detective of not only this century, but of six centuries. And then there’s Light.

Between the Lines by Klitch (Fushimi Saruhiko/Yata Misaki) (complete)

I’ve read this fic about 5 times and have accepted it as canon for this stupid show

The first time Yata saw him the kid was sitting in the corner of the cafeteria all alone with his bought lunch spread out before him, painstakingly picking out the vegetables and stacking them according to color and size.

Picking up the Pieces by SilverThunder (Fushimi Saruhiko/Yata Misaki) (complete)

I really like K. It’s a weird show, and it has copious faults. Maybe I just really like that the characters have so much potential, and this fic (as well as the one above) truly expands on that potential. This fic is an excellent exploration of these two character’s relationships, there’s just the right amount of angst. I’ve read it multiple times.

A whole year, gone from his head just like that - and how many memories could you fit in that time, anyway? It wasn’t a question Yata thought he’d ever have to ask, but with so many things changed between Saruhiko and himself, he wasn’t about to leave it alone.

It just sucked that the new world they’d built was still so easy to break.

to be first, to be best by kittebasu (chanyeol) (iwaoi) (complete)

haikyuu!! is odd for me because I don’t care about it anymore, but I really like this fic, and I’ve read it about 5 times. The characterization is on point, and the story is extremely well written.

Hajime is apparently something of a masochist, and as he stares down at the tie-dyed AREA51 T-shirt in his hands, he thinks“I’m totally in love with this asshole, aren’t I?”

Cat's Cradle by evocates (Fujioka Haruhi/Ootori Kyouya/Suoh Tamaki) (complete)

every new years eve, since 2011, my brother and I have watched Ouran High School Host Club. for the past 4 years, I have read and re-read this fic without fail in the days after

Kyouya had been able to see the red threads between people’s fingers since the day he was born. A song of fate, and the breaking of. Tamaki was a man who could never be predictable. Vague spoilers up to Chapter 63.

"Relationship Stuff" by arokitty, Ponderess (shinara) (complete)

This fic helped me realize I was asexual. It’s beautifully written.

"Relationship stuff" — that's what Yasutomo kept calling it on the occasions we discussed how things were going between us. He never failed to say it dismissively, as if it was an annoying plague he was forced to put up with. But even when I told him that he could opt out of it at any time, he did not pull back.

[lithromantic asexual Shinkai, aromantic asexual Arakita, quasiplatonic Shinara]

You Really Ought To Know by isengard (midotaka) (complete)

I really like this ship, and out of all the fics I’ve read of it, this is the one I adore the most (obviously enough to read it three times)

The Fates have an important message for Takao Kazunari.

A Gradual Fall by grassandcitrus (originshipping) (complete)

This maybe isn’t the best written fic, but it has a lot of heart, and for a ship that there is little content for, this fic served me well. It’s hard to write a realistic pokemon AU, but this feels grounded. For whatever reason, this ship still means a lot to me, so when I get in the mood for it, I’ll re-read this fic.

Meeting Wallace turned out to be a life changing event for Steven. He realizes that pretty early on. Other things, however, come with time.

The Punchline and the Resulting Silence by youremyqueen (thiefshipping) (complete)

from the author: “so i went ahead and wrote ygotas fic because, hell, if LK can record videos in which he vocally flirts with himself while playing video games, and then write gay porn about it, I sure as hell can write gay porn about it too.” yeah. 

In which Marik destroys many household appliances, Bakura naps doggedly, and they sometimes pretend - with very little success - not to be in love. (YGOTAS, thiefshipping. ridiculousness meets poeticism meets more ridiculousness.)

Six Days As Boyfriends by sitabethel (thiefshipping) (complete)

I just really like this ship and I have since I was a 14 don’t @me

In order to avoid talks of arranged marriage, Marik convinces Bakura to trick Ishizu into thinking that they're in love.

The Longest Job & The Smallest Favor by emanthony (hisoillu) (complete)

everyone in like march-ish of 2018: omg in the new update of hxh illumi says that he and hisoka are engaged!

me having watched 10 episodes of hxh 4 years ago and having a faint idea of the series: who?

me: *looks up fanfics of them*

me: *finds these two*

me: *proceeds to read them 15 times and gets obsessed with the ship*

Illumi is forced out of the Zoldyck estate and seeks a living arrangement with an associate. He's not altogether pleased with it.

Hisoka is a floor master at Heaven's Arena and has the unexpected pleasure of spending time with one of his oldest acquaintances. He doesn't share Illumi's frustrations.

///

A sequel to the Longest Job, another HisoIllu fanfiction.

Hisoka and Illumi have been living together for six months now without much trouble. But when Illumi's youngest brother goes missing, Hisoka manages to make the situation just a bit too complicated and much more fun.

Lessons in Etiquette by KnockKnockBadminton (promtis) (complete)

I knew nothing about this video game but for whatever reason decided to look up fanfic for it after seeing some fanart, and then because this one was so well written, I, again knowing absolutely knowing about this video game or the series it’s a part of, binged the entire 164k fic in like two days. I’ve also re-read it and convinced my brother to buy the video game as a result. He refers to them as the “leather boy band” and sends me updates about his play through lmao

Begins in high school. From Prompto's desire to befriend the sullen, bullied prince blooms a relationship even the Astrals themselves could not have foreseen. Basically fills in the gaps from Brotherhood to the fall of Insomnia. Some liberties taken.

say it like you mean it by spaceburgers (takuleo) (complete)

Ever since playing the video game, I loved the dynamic between these two characters, and this fic is a wonderfully crafted and fun to read AU staring both of them.

Wherein Leo is a transfer student, Takumi is overly competitive, and they're doing Romeo and Juliet (but not as the titular roles).

[justwhymsical]

Cursed (USUK)

Mermaids for Mermay!! Arthur is an angler fish mer who has been cursed to live in a lake when he came across a cursed piece of coral. Alfred found him and keeps him company while trying to figure out a way to break the curse. There’s some language in there so be warned.

Based on some lovely art by my good friend @triruntu! She originally came up with the AU years ago but I modified it slightly for my little story.

I don't usually write in present tense so it might flow a liiitle bit weirdly in a few places, but it was a fun experience! I hope you enjoy it! You can also find it on AO3 and dA; the links to my profiles there are under the ‘My Writing’ link at the top of my blog. ^-^

~~~

“Hello,” Arthur says, and Alfred nearly shits himself.

“Jesus, Arthur, you scared me!” It takes a minute for Alfred to right himself in the bottom of the boat, for his shin and elbow to stop stinging. When he looks over the side, he’s met with a shit-eating, sharp grin.

“I know.”

“You’re mean,” Alfred tells him, pouting. Still, he helps the merman into his boat, careful of all the fins and lures hanging off him. “Do you gotta do that every time?”

Arthur shrugs. “I find it amusing. Your face today was particularly rich.”

“Asshole.”

“Hmm.” Arthur’s hands move to the cooler, where red snapper is waiting for him today. He bites into the fish and hums with approval. “This is better than last time. How’s your research going along?”

“Not much new stuff to report. I’m telling you, us humans just don’t do curses outside of stories. The only common cure is a kiss.”

Arthur’s lip curls. A dribble of blood runs down his chin. “True love’s kiss. I am not a frog. Why the princess ever kissed it, I don’t know.” His voice drops to a mutter. “Kissing frogs, who’d ever want to kiss a stupid frog?”

Alfred just rolls his eyes. He’s not about to be drawn into that argument again. “Well, who’d want to kiss you? You’ve got sharp teeth, no sense of humour, and your hobby is giving people heart attacks.” He thinks he’d very much like to kiss Arthur.

“I only give you heart attacks,” Arthur says defensively. Done with the fish, he tosses its spine overboard.

“I feel so special.” Alfred places a hand across his heart, grinning at the merman’s unimpressed look.

“I’ll bite you next time, I swear,” Arthur threatens.

Alfred has to try very hard not to think about how that would feel. “Maybe there won’t be a next time,” he says instead. “Maybe your true love will waltz into the lake at night, get taken in by your lights, smooch you senseless, and you’ll swim off into the dawn together.”

If anything, Arthur’s face only grows more blasé. “That’s hardly possible, considering you’re the only one who knows about me.” His expression changes, grows more vulnerable. “You are, right?”

The sight of such weakness is rare when it comes to Arthur, and Alfred thinks it looks wrong on him. “I am,” he’s quick to reassure. “I did promise you, and I always keep my promises.”

He reaches for Arthur’s hand, gives it a squeeze. Feels the skin warm up. The mottled flesh never ceases to fascinate him. Arthur’s nails are dark and sharp; he could easily rip through the delicate tendons under Alfred’s skin, but he’s careful as he squeezes back. They don’t let go of each other for a while.

“Will you stay past sunset?”

“Hell yeah!” Alfred grins and traces the darker blue lines running along Arthur’s fingers. “I love seeing you glow.”

Arthur looks away. “You’re really not supposed to find it pretty. It’s how I kill.” His cheeks are pinked, so he stares hard at the mouth of the river while he speaks. Luckily, from the feel of the fingertips running across his skin, Alfred is still focused on the blue.

“You’re not gonna kill me, so it’s fine,” Alfred says. “Plus, I love blue.”

You seem to love a lot of things to do with me. Arthur bites the words back. If he allowed them to slip free, Alfred would startle and leave. He murders them instead, and pulls his arm back to his side. “I would have if we met out there.”

Alfred ignores the words. “I bought more data, so we can watch more videos if you want. The internet still has a lot more cat videos to offer.”

“I wish you’d bring yours here,” Arthur tells him, and leans against his side.

The American pulls a blanket from under his seat, trying not to gag at the smell, and dunks it into the lake. It’s soon smoothed over Arthur’s tail. “They hate water, sorry Art. You’ll see them when you get free though, I promise!”

Arthur bites back more words, strangles them near his heart. He’s accepted he’s not leaving the lake. Alfred makes it better, though. Alfred makes everything he touches better. “Show me the cuttlefish video,” he demands.

“The True Facts one?” Alfred laughs. “Sure. Pretty soon half the views on it will be from you.”

“I like it.” Arthur pokes his wrist. Hard enough to sting, but not hard enough to break the skin. Alfred scraped his knee once while trying to get out of the boat. Arthur finds it hard to control himself at the sight of his blood.

“I know, I know.” Alfred just chuckles more. He wraps his arms comfortably around Arthur’s waist, mindful of the way his dorsal fin is folded between them.

They watch video after video in the calm, the silence between them only broken when one of them laughs. Cat videos, vine compilations, even soap-making demonstrations, Alfred shows them all. Arthur watches with rapt attention. Occasionally, he’ll ask for something specific – ‘Another True Facts, please.’; ‘I want to watch the animal vines next.’; ‘Show me the lily pad pond soap!’ – but more often than not he’s simply looking at the screen with wide eyes. As the sun dips lower, so does Alfred’s head, until his chin is perched on Arthur’s shoulder and he’s laughing into the merman’s ear. The moment Arthur notices and turns to him, eyebrows rising, Alfred smiles and quickly pulls away. His chin and cheek tingle.

The sky bleeds pink and purple when Arthur swats at the phone, almost sending it into the water. “Swim with me,” he says.

In his scramble after the device, Alfred ends up with his face in Arthur’s armpit, arms tight around his friend’s waist. He’s hanging onto his phone with the tips of his fingers. “Careful with that.” It’s not the first time he’s had to say that, and it definitely won’t be the last.

He disentangles himself and stows his phone back into a Ziploc bag. Arthur’s already halfway out of the boat so he gives him a shove, sending him into the water with a splash and a yelp. Oh he’s going to pay for that, but he has no regrets. Predictably, Arthur launches out of the lake and spits water in his face as he soars over the boat, but Alfred’s laughing the whole time and even claps at the display. While Arthur vanishes for a few minutes, Alfred takes the time to strip to his underwear. The merman is waiting for him by the time he’s balancing on the side.

They dive down into the water together. It’s really less of a dive and more of a flop for Alfred, but soon they’re both underwater. Arthur’s bioluminescence is really noticeable when they’re beneath the surface of the lake. The stripes along his body as well as his frills and lures glow a brilliant blue. They contrast well with his eyes.

Arthur grabs hold of Alfred’s hand and tugs him down five feet, then ten. Deep enough that the merman can move freely. Shallow enough that Alfred can kick to the surface whenever he needs air. Alfred is a good swimmer, but even so he can only hold his breath for less than two minutes. They’ve somehow worked around this limitation.

Alfred can’t tear his gaze away from the sight before him. He thinks he would have died long ago, out in the open ocean. Arthur is mesmerising even without the bioluminescence, but with the bright blue trails in the water it’s enough to make Alfred’s mouth dry. He kicks his legs and swims toward the surface, Arthur guiding him along with lazy sweeps of his tail.

“That seemed longer than usual,” Arthur comments when they can both speak.

“Yeah. I’m getting better.” Alfred’s still wheezing a bit. He grips onto the boat for stability.

“I’ll be waiting.” Arthur gives him a sharp smile and ducks under the water.

All Alfred can think about is how fucked he is.

He peers below and can make out flashes of blue as Arthur weaves through the water. Darkness encroaches around him on all sides, and Alfred has to try very hard to not think about anything else that might be in the lake. Arthur’s assured him that he’s the top predator in this little ecosystem, but sometimes it’s hard to remember that in the dark. Alfred focuses instead on the blue, the beautiful blue. He’s sad because he’ll never act, wouldn’t do that to Arthur because what if he’s not the one? And then it will be awkward and Alfred really doesn’t want Arthur to be alone here again. When it comes down to it, Alfred F. Jones is a coward.

The blue comes closer and Arthur tugs on his ankle.

“Coming,” Alfred says, even though Arthur can’t hear, because the word stops his thoughts in their tracks.

He ducks below again, and doesn’t resist as Arthur drags him down despite the jump in his belly. The merman twists around him, brushing up against him more often than not. Alfred holds in his shivers as the delicate frills and lures tickle against his skin. He grabs Arthur’s hand in his own and lets Arthur tug him around. This is Arthur’s quiet happiness, a relaxed companionship that only Alfred can give him. His own heart aches as he thinks how small the lake is compared to the ocean. His shoulder is yanked a bit as Arthur speeds towards the surface. He breaks it alone, and this time only takes a few seconds to catch his breath before sinking again.

He’s closer to Arthur this time, his hands on those mottled, slender shoulders. Alfred doesn’t think anymore. One hand moves upwards, caresses Arthur’s neck and cheek before toying with the lure on his head. It’s a thin bulb, bright blue like all the rest, and Alfred’s eyes watch it sway with the current. He smiles a bit.

Then Arthur’s leaning in, eyes slack and hyperfocused at the same time. As if he was the one awestruck by Alfred, the measly human.

Arthur’s eyes slip shut and before Alfred can move a muscle, they’re kissing. It’s wet, of course, and Arthur’s lips are cold, but it’s not a bad kiss.

Alfred gasps into it, releasing precious air.

Green eyes open in a flash, and Arthur jerks back. His lips tremble and his face contorts into hesitance and embarrassment before he dives down deep, where Alfred can’t follow.

Alfred’s own face screws up. He peers down into the darkness for as long as he can before his lungs start burning and he kicks upwards. Arthur has gone so far down he’s not visible anymore, and Alfred sighs as he clings onto the boat. That was one question answered. Now they just needed to talk about it.

He stays there like that for ten minutes, hoping to catch glimpse of blue or feel Arthur’s hand around his ankle. It wasn’t like he’d shoved Arthur away… Any longer, and he would have been kissing back just as much. After a few more minutes, Alfred sighs again and heaves himself into the boat. His legs knock against the cooler and he curses, then freezes with an idea.

If Arthur won’t come out on his own, then Alfred will just have to lure him out.

Moving quickly but carefully so as to not destabilize the boat, Alfred reaches into the cooler and grabs a wriggling fish. He also grabs a knife, and slits the creature’s throat before tossing it overboard. The knife tip trembles as he peers into the water after the fish has sunk out of sight.

There! A flash of blue, gone as quickly as it had come.

At least Arthur’s tempted by it.

He empties out the rest of the cooler into the lake, one fish at a time. The flash of blue appears after he’s dropped each snapper, but Arthur doesn’t rise. Alfred worries his lip between his teeth after the last fish is gone. He tosses the knife aside, stilling again when he hears it clink against his glasses. Each time he’s dropped one of his possessions down, Arthur has retrieved it… He grabs the glasses without hesitation and chucks them over.

Two minutes pass. Then five. Then eight.

Alfred’s losing hope when he sees a surge of blue heading towards the surface. He smiles and leans back, preparing himself.

A hand latches onto the side of the boat, and Arthur’s head lure is barely visible as the merman reaches in to deposit the glasses on the boat seat. Alfred has a split second to act, but somehow he manages to grab onto Arthur’s wrist.

Arthur startles and shoots down, hauling Alfred along with him. Alfred yelps as his hip is slammed into the side and he barely has enough time to take a breath before he’s underwater, but he clings on. Arthur bares his teeth and continues diving, waits for Alfred to give up and let go and return to the surface. Alfred, rising to the challenge, only tightens his grip.

It’s after about a minute of this that Arthur realizes how deep they are. How far the surface is. How long Alfred can hold his breath for. His expression morphs to one of worry and he loops around so their faces are close together. Alfred’s cheeks are puffed out, occasional air bubbles escaping his lips. His eyes, screwed shut on the way down, open again and he grins when he sees that they’ve stopped moving. He reaches with his free hand to Arthur’s cheek, caresses it. Arthur feels his heart stutter and can’t help but to lean in. His tail lightly wraps around Alfred’s shin.

Then, Alfred’s face shifts. His smile falls away and his throat works desperately, uselessly. He tries to kick his legs but Arthur is heavy with muscle and he can’t hope to tug him that impossible distance.

“Arthur,” he begs, but it’s a garbled mess and his lungs burn even more as a few drops of water slip down his windpipe.

“No, no!” Arthur yells, the sound echoing in the water. He wraps his arms around Alfred’s waist and races for the surface. His chest tightens when he feels Alfred go limp in his arms, and he pumps his tail faster.

They break the surface together, shoot out of the water, and Arthur uses this to his advantage as he angles them towards the boat, with him on the bottom. The crack of his arms against the wood is worth it if Alfred survives. The human is still for a few seconds. Then, his heaving breaths shatter the air. He curls up on top of Arthur, coughing violently until the water is out of his lungs.

“A-Art?” he wheezes, his hands scrabbling for purchase. He finds Arthur’s arm and holds on tight.

“You’re here, you’re safe.” Tears are dripping down his face for the first time in many years, but Arthur doesn’t care. “You’re safe,” he repeats, and can’t say more because Alfred’s kissing him again.

This kiss is wilder, more desperate. Arthur’s breathing hitches and he’s pretty sure Alfred is sobbing, but their grip on each other is tight and sure. They pull apart once, twice for more air, but before long their lips meet again. It’s ten minutes before they take a longer break.

Alfred breathes in deep and uses the moment to stop trembling. He rests his cheek against Arthur’s chest and closes his eyes when Arthur starts carding through his damp hair. He only tightens his grip on the merman in response.

“Why did you do that?” Arthur asks quietly. A few of his frills are bent at odd angles and hurt, but he doesn’t want to move. Not yet. “Stupid human…”

“If I’d let you go, I knew I wouldn’t see you for a long while.” Alfred’s voice is still raspy, still weak. But there.

“You can’t breathe underwater,” Arthur says, quite uselessly.

“I knew you wouldn’t let me die.”

“You have far too much faith in me. I am not some pretty, dopey, red-haired Princess. I’m a predator.”

“Still cute,” is all Alfred says.

Arthur’s jaw clicks shut. He frowns. “You shouldn’t like me. I am not very likable.”

“No, you’re not.” Alfred laughs as the hand in his hair freezes. “You’re grouchy and mean and I really think my heart’s gonna give out one day because of you.” He tilts his head up and grins brilliantly at the look on Arthur’s face. “But you’re nice to me and I think you’re funny and I wanna find out everything about you.”

Arthur’s cheeks pink and he has to look away. “Because I’m an oddity.”

“Because you’re an interesting person, Art.”

“I see.” He can’t help the smile from coming to his face.

“…And I also think I have a thing for really sharp teeth.”

“Alfred!” Arthur squeaks and tries to shove him away, but his grip is too tight. “I- I’ll bite you!” He purses his lips as he realizes his mistake.

Alfred only smirks. “Oh, will you, now?”

Arthur covers his face with his hands. “Why do I like you?”

“Hmm, why do you?” Alfred peppers Arthur’s knuckles with kisses, though his face is serious again, almost hesitant.

“You never treated me any different,” Arthur murmurs, reaching a hand for Alfred’s cheek. “Even though you fainted the first time you saw me.” He pinches the skin beneath his fingers, and bites back another smile at Alfred’s chuckles. “You’re nice to me too, and you always come back.” He can listen to Alfred talk forever, can talk with him forever, though he doesn’t say that. Alfred’s ego is big enough already.

“Love you, Art…” Alfred mumbles, nosing into the hand and pressing a few more kisses to Arthur’s palm.

Arthur feels his heart stop, reboot. He coughs. “I love you too, you stupid human.”

“Stubborn fish.”

“I take it back, you’re not nice at all.”

“Wh- Hey!” Alfred laughs even more. “You’re the one who started it! But you’re my stubborn fish, that’s what’s important.”

“Oh, is it.” Arthur can’t help a few chuckles from escaping. Unable to meet Alfred’s gaze for too long, he looks out at the lake and jolts. “Alfred.”

“Hmm?”

“I… I can go home now.” Arthur feels his eyes well up again. “Alfred, I can go back to the sea, I can go home!” When he looks to Alfred again, he’s smiling more brightly than ever.

“Oh!” Alfred’s eyes widen, and his lips stretch into a matching smile. “That’s awesome!” Arthur can go back…to the open ocean. To the depths of some trench, where he’s happy and comfortable. His expression crumbles at the edges.

Arthur notices. It clicks in his mind. “You stupid, stupid human,” he coos, holding Alfred closer. “I’m not going to leave you, not after this. I meant I can leave this lake, get my most treasured possessions before coming back to you.”

Alfred shoves his face into the crook of Arthur’s neck. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Arthur suspects he’s one of the very few beings on the planet to witness Alfred’s insecurities. He treasures them, and does what he can to smooth them away. “Shall we…try it again?”

Alfred grows serious again as he clambers off of Arthur’s body. He helps the merman shuffle into a more comfortable position, and as he does so, his hand brushes against a particular torn frill. The first time he tried getting Arthur out of this lake on his boat.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” Arthur murmurs, placing a hand over Alfred’s.

“I know.” Alfred doesn’t think he’ll ever get the sound of Arthur’s scream out of his mind, the pure agony as his fin started to disintegrate. “I’m nervous.”

Arthur takes in a deep breath. “You love me, and I love you. The curse should be lifted.” If he ever finds the creature who hexed that stupid piece of coral, there will be hell to pay.

“Okay. I love you, Art, I really do,” Alfred says once more, just to be sure. “Tell me the moment you’re in pain, okay?”

“I will. I’m not that much of a masochist.”

Alfred covers Arthur in the damp blanket once again before picking up the oars. They’re out near the middle of the lake, so it takes them a good ten minutes of rowing before they reach the mouth of the river connecting the smaller body of water to the ocean. He slows the boat as they reach that border, and keeps his eyes on Arthur the whole time. The merman is tapping a clawed finger against the side of the boat with boredom, but there are lines of tension running through his whole body. They both stiffen as the boat transitions from lake to river, and then Alfred is throwing himself into Arthur’s arms.

“You’re free!”

Arthur laughs and pulls him close. “I’m free,” he says, then proceeds to kiss Alfred senseless.

Somehow the boat manages to keep floating in a straight line.

“It’s like twenty minutes at this pace,” Alfred says a few minutes later, when they’re simply curled together at the back of the small space. “But we don’t have to hurry, right?”

“Right,” Arthur agrees. He’s happy to snuggle into Alfred’s shoulder.

“Hey, so uhh…”

Arthur does not like that tone. “What?”

“You’re an angler fish, right? Like the fish part?”

“Yes.” Arthur squints at him. “We’ve been over this.”

Alfred licks his lips before grinning brightly. “So when we have sex, will I fuse to you, becoming just a pair of extra balls in your side?”

Arthur bites him.

[soda-rebel]

Prick My Heart

For my dude @midnightleone ! Enjoy your angst bro!

Summary: It’s hard to be the royals of Spades, but Alfred and Arthur make it work. 

The Kingdom of Spades were a proud people. Proud of their towns and streets that glittered with pure sapphire. Proud of their heritage that held volumes upon volumes of victories. Most of all, the people of Spades were proud of their kingdom that had asserted itself as one of the strongest empires of the world. But the Kingdom of Spades was not proud of their royals.

It was common knowledge that in order to keep the gifts bestowed upon them by the previous kings and queens, the royal bloodline had to be ruthless. Each new ruler was more cunning, more heartless than the next until the kingdom outright rebelled against their tyranny. From that day forth, the royal bloodline was determined by two magic imbued clocks, one for the king and one for the queen. After the death of a monarch, the clocks would be rewound, signaling the birth of the next era. The clocks would choose the best fit rulers from among the citizens. Sometimes they were upper class, sometimes common folk. But it was always a mystery as to whom the crown belonged to next. Which, of course, lead to the present king and queen: Alfred F. Jones and Arthur Kirkland.

Arthur was a man built for the kingdom, but not in the sense of royalty. He had joined in the ranks of knights hoping to defend his country, willing to lay down his life if needed. His sacrifice never came to be. A day before Arthur’s knighting ceremony, a bold blue spade rose up from the depths of his skin to brand him forever. On that day, he was forced to lay down his sword and pick up peace treaties and champagne glasses instead.

Alfred had less of an honorable background. Witness to the lowest slums in Spades, the orphaned Jones boy had made a living pickpocketing and pilfering from anyone who could spare it. He had been decent as a thief, but only just. It’s always the decent thieves that end up at the gallows. Alfred would have been hung too, had it not been for the spade symbol that abruptly glimmered into view. He was escorted into a life so luxurious he was almost sick.

A man for a queen and a thief for a king. They were a duo that brought shame upon Spades. Yet, the country couldn’t have been better. From his days living on the streets, Alfred knew what funds to give to what cities and what ports to put more taxes into.

Arthur, a master in negotiations, was given the task of peacekeeping between countries. He had even managed to bargain with Ivan, the difficult ruler of the East.

In fact, it was from a meeting with the said man that the king and queen were returning from.

Arthur sighed as he leaned ungraciously against the cushioned insides of the carriage. Ivan was still as stiff as ever, but it was nothing a couple drinks couldn’t help. Or three. Or four. Or twenty. It was a good thing his newfound magic burned up the alcohol quickly. Suddenly, after being out from the scrutiny of others, Arthur remembered the jabbing pains against his ribs. Damn corsets. Quickly, he shed the coat and shirts he wore.

“Alfred,” he singsonged. “Be a dear and unlace me will you? I would, but you know I can’t move in these blasted abominations.”

Alfred, who had been sitting and waiting patiently in the carriage the entire time, leaned over to help him. The first freed lace felt like a boulder was lifted off of Arthur’s chest.

“So how’d it go?” Alfred asked.

“As it usually does,” Arthur replied, breathing a bit deeper the farther down Alfred went. “It’s Ivan. If I can count on one thing, it’s that he never changes.”

“You know what I meant, did he threaten war or --ah, I got it!” With an accomplished smile, Alfred peeled away the corset that hid Arthur’s natural and familiar shape. Along with the corset, two small daggers and a relatively decent sized knife tumbled to the floor.

“What?” Arthur asked, after seeing Alfred’s stunned face.

“That’s not safe at all, Arthur!” Alfred worried about his reckless husband, sometimes. Just think, if one of those daggers had shifted…

“You’re one to talk, love,” Arthur laughed. “Don’t tell me you haven’t hidden weapons under your breeches.”

Alfred had, he’d give him that. “Fair enough. Just, promise to be careful how you place them?”

“Why darling,” Arthur smiled, running a hand over Alfred’s shoulder, “If I was careful, I wouldn’t have loved you.” Arthur leaned in close, so close that Alfred could feel each new rebirthed breath against his skin. Alfred felt Arthur’s beautiful smile pressed against his lips, gentle like a lapping wave. The bitterness of some sort of berry wine was fresh in his mouth.  

“I suppose that makes two of us, charming Highness,” Alfred mumbled. He was slipping into the security of Arthur, in his hands that had always been softly covered in calluses. In Arthur’s smell, something like old parchment, stamps, and warm, herby magic. In Arthur’s eyes, a reflective pool of green that seemed electric with life. Until Arthur, precious, warm, Arthur, pulled away.

Alfred, of course, whined and tried to go back to some sort of embrace. But Arthur was redressing and thinking, his corset abandoned on the floors of the carriage. Alfred could tell Arthur was worried by the way his smile grew thin and his eyes glittered with intensity.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

Arthur looked perplexed. It was clear his magic was restless, their bond through the spade mark made it certain.

“I don’t know,” he finally said. “Maybe I’m just overreacting. My magic always acts up when we leave the borders.”

Alfred furrowed his brows. Overreacting or not, they still needed to be careful. “Are you sure, Arthur? Because if it’s something--”.

“No, no, I’m probably just picking up Ivan’s magic. He lets loose when he drinks.” Or so that was what Arthur said. He chose to ignore the voice that screamed somewhere in the corners of his mind that Ivan’s magic would’ve been undetectable for miles. But it seemed to have calmed Alfred, so he allowed it.

“Alright, I believe you, darling.”

Arthur scoffed. “As you should.” With a mischievous glint to his eyes, he added, “Now, I believe you were in the middle of ravishing me?”

Alfred happily--and practically--leaped back onto Arthur, showering him with kisses and fleeting touches. Arthur almost purred from the treatment.

“Are you gonna be ok for the knighting ceremony tomorrow?” Alfred asked, cupping Arthur’s face in his hands.

Arthur stilled at the question, knowing well that his old comrades would be seeing him for the first time in months. Shaking the doubt away, he held Alfred’s hand gently, squeezing it a little for reassurance. “I’ll be just fine, love. That’s for me to worry about, anyway. What you need to be concerned about is the meeting with Ludwig tomorrow.”

Alfred physically slouched. “Can’t you do that, Arthur?” he whined.

“We made a deal, Alfred,” he reminded. “I take Ivan tonight and you take Ludwig whenever he calls.” “But Artie, he’s boring!” Alfred groaned, sinking further into the carriage cushions.

As if being royalty didn’t mean piles of “boring” paperwork mound after boring paperwork mound. Most of which Arthur was in charge of. Alfred wasn’t really the reading type.

“I don’t understand why you can’t be king,” Alfred grumbled. “You’d be great for Spades. They’d love you.”

Arthur sighed. They had gone over this a thousand times at least. “Spades needs both of us to survive.” He took both of Alfred’s hands in his, letting his thumb trace small circles onto them. “And that’s just not my place as queen.”

Alfred kissed him on the lips, softly. It was a precious fleeting warmth. “Why? Wouldn’t they be satisfied?” Alfred mumbled.

Arthur rolled his eyes, amused as usual by his king’s antics. “The people barely love me as the queen, and you think they’d accept me as king?”

“Who says they hate you?” he asked.

“Alfred dear,” he sighed, “You should know by now that queens are made to appease the people, and I’ve never even been good at appeasing. They have a right to be upset.”

Alfred smiled a devious little smile. “I wouldn’t say that. I was pretty ‘appeased’ last night.”

“How vulgar.” But Arthur smiled and laughed all the same. “You’re a lovely king, darling. Don’t doubt yourself.” He kissed Alfred briefly, it was just a peck, really. Alfred cherished it all the same.

And then their carriage shuddered to an unnatural halt.

Alfred, confused, called to the carriage driver. “What’s the meaning of thi--?” Arthur clamped a hand over his mouth, his intense green eyes telling Alfred not to make a sound.

They listened as the barely audible crunches of boots surrounded them. Alfred reached for a sword he managed to smuggle under a loose board. Arthur let go of Alfred and picked up both of his corset daggers.    

They stilled when the carriage door handle turned ever so slightly. Arthur darted his eyes at Alfred’s, nodding toward the door. In three seconds flat, Alfred kicked door back. A slam told them that someone had definitely been knocked out. They leaped out of the carriage, confirming that they were surrounded. The assassins were covered in black fabric--even their faces--except for one detail. On each chest, a patterned number of spade symbols were painted. There seemed to be ten of them in all, including the one groaning by the carriage.

“Who sent you?” Alfred yelled.

They were silent, almost inhumanely silent. One man with the three of spades finally spoke. “Your people.”

Alfred didn’t get the chance to shout or really react. The circle moved in on them, dangerously slashing the air around them.

“You take the left and I’ll take the right,” Arthur said, throwing his daggers into the closest men.

Alfred took off at the command, slashing at the limbs of those closest to him. When a four of spades came close, he sent a small blue flame at him. Though his magic couldn’t rival Arthur’s, Alfred was decent at small bursts.    

Speaking of, Arthur immediately called his magic after discarding his daggers. It snaked through the air, crackling and hissing like a live bolt of lightning. Quickly, it wove and settled just barely above Arthur’s fingertips. They were essentially daggers made of his soul that waited for a chance to slash and sting and cut. Better than any corset dagger, that’s for damn sure. The earth shook as Arthur pulled up roots using his magic to pull and ensnare the assassins with. If Alfred hadn’t been married to him, Arthur would’ve looked pretty damn menacing.  

Alfred only looked away for a second. He nailed an assassin in the back, and spun to see Arthur absolutely decimating more than their agreed “half”. It was the most alive he’d seen Arthur in days. He was just so...confident, so relaxed. One more ripple of thorns and plunge of a sword and Arthur had finished off the last of them. Alfred had run up to him, excitement on his tongue and love in his heart. Alfred practically crashed into Arthur, swords clanging together and rejoicing their reunion. He ran his free gloved hand over Arthur’s face, checking for deep cuts or burns.

“I’m fine,” Arthur sighed. But under that sigh, he still held the wonderful perfume of fondness and relief.

“I just wanna check,” Alfred reassured him. “I need to see that you’re in one piece, I’d rip them a new one if, I swear to Spades---”

Arthur hushed him and kissed the space between his eyelid and brow. “You’ll take down an entire kingdom with your temper,” he chuckled.

“I’d do it if it was for you, my Highness.” Alfred kissed the bridge of Arthur’s nose, feeling the warm exhale against his neck.

“I love you so much, Alfred.”

And that was all he’d ever say of that.    

When Alfred and Arthur were enraptured in each other’s eyes and beating hearts, one assassin--he had five white spades painted across his chest--mustered up what strength he had left to plunge his sword deep into Arthur. It cut under the bone of his shoulder blade, past his clothes, and eventually poked out from his chest. The sound it made was sickly, somewhere between a crunch and a wet snap. The assassin twisted the blade and yanked it out. The entire scene took less than a minute.

Arthur looked up at Alfred, fear in his eyes and blood dripping from his chest. The world stood still.  

“Al--?” But Arthur had trouble saying that. He fell. Alfred grabbed for him, setting Arthur down as soft as he could. Arthur choked on the blood that welled up in his lungs.

He was scared, Spades was he scared.

Arthur dry heaved--no, it crackled too much to be a dry heave. Arthur gasped for air, drowning in an ocean of his own lifeline. His eyes were wild, looking everywhere and nowhere, refusing to make contact with Alfred’s equally frightened ones.

“Artie, you’re going to be ok. You’re going to be ok, I’m sure we’ll get help soon.”

But Arthur never said a thing. He continued gasping and tearing his throat up with the gargled sounds he made. Arthur didn’t seem to feel the gentle hands against his face, holding, feeling, loving him.  

“Artie, Artie, please don’t leave,” Alfred cried. “I’m not--I can’t be a king without you.”

Arthur’s eyes were weary, and the ground around him was slick with his blood. He held Alfred’s gaze for a second, maybe even two. Alfred held onto it, almost like a sign, kissing Arthur’s still warm lips. Alfred’s lips turned sickly bitter, coated with oily blood. He didn’t care. Alfred could taste the tang of blood in his mouth. He didn’t care. Arthur’s fluttering lashes tickled his cheeks. He didn’t care.  

“Al?” he managed to whisper against Alfred’s lips. “ ‘M scared.”

Alfred held him, gripped the sides of Arthur’s sleeves until his knuckles turned white. “Don’t be, I’ve got you.” Alfred tried to smile, he tried so badly to sound brave. But then Arthur exhaled softly, so softly Alfred almost missed it. It was a relinquishing breath, the kind of breath that only gave and never took.

“Arthur?” Alfred squeaked.

Arthur never breathed again.

A fury bubbled up in Alfred, an all-consuming blind fury. He lunged at the barely standing assassin with his sword. They didn’t move as Alfred, snarling and pained, raised his sword. In one wide arc, Alfred severed the assassin’s head. It went tumbling onto the forest leaves, slicking the ground with gore. Alfred turned to dare an enemy to stand, he dared them to even consider living after the example he set. To his slight disappointment, not a single one moved. He was in a forest of death.

With no more men to kill, Alfred wandered back to Arthur like a battered ship to a lighthouse.

Arthur’s unblinking eyes stared at the sky, almost as if he was asking it a question. His lips were still slightly parted, almost like he was on the verge of speaking his mind. Yet Arthur still looked so pained, even in death.

Alfred couldn’t help but fall to his knees, hands shaking as he brushed some of Arthur’s fringe from those dulled unblinking eyes.

“My highness, my dear highness,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

He cried as he held Arthur’s stiffening body. He cried knowing that it was the people who had done this, people who should have cared more than anything about Arthur. In some cruel and twisted away, Alfred thought it was fitting that only he loved Arthur best.

It hit Alfred that he couldn’t go back to the kingdom now. He didn’t want to lead a kingdom that only took from him, and he doubted that the people of Spades wanted him anyways.

After picking himself up, Alfred dried his eyes. He took a few minutes to pick some wildflowers and gathered them into a bouquet. Even if Spades didn’t care for Arthur, Alfred knew he deserved a respectable sendoff.

As he shoveled dirt with his hands, Alfred numbly thought of Arthur. That laugh, the one that was just barely one note above a snicker. His gentle voice, the one he only used for Alfred. The last kiss they shared and the warmth of his lips against Alfred’s.

It was never the crown that had made Alfred king. The magic had chosen him for the role, but Arthur was the one that molded him into a fitting king. Arthur who encouraged, Arthur who believed his abilities before anyone else. Arthur who had led and reassured him every step of the way. Alfred didn’t know how he would live a life without him.

So Alfred left sword, crown, and queen buried deep in the earth, spending his days as a wanderer wallowing in his grief.