#usuknetwork

[hwsforeignrelations]

A Fogged Up Plan

Summary: For three weeks, the Kingdom of Spades’ royals have been held captive in Diamond’s Fort Shellac. After one weevily meal too many, they hatch a plan to escape.

Made for @usuknetwork's USUKUSTwicePer zine: Cards, With Spades to Start. Read the full collection here (hehe I also designed the cover, please show everyone some love!!)

AO3 Link // Words: 3,812

Five moons before Queen Arthur Kirkland’s coronation, the isolated swamps of Southern Spades were inhabited by an insect known as PB Cup. 

Previously known but unstudied, a small population found itself in the hold of a cargo ship en route towards the Kingdom of Diamonds. 

Once docked, it is rumored that a seawoman unloading barrels and crates of imports carried the insects to her town on the outskirts of the port, where the red buzzers settled onto a Camellia sinensis farm. There, the small population decimated the crops. When customers purchased the expensive processed leaves in tea, it tasted of woody, bitter peanuts. 

Diamond’s PB Cup population quickly spiraled into millions and one of the kingdom’s primary exports, tea, crashed. 

With it, Diamond’s economic influence sank to match the impoverished Kingdom of Clubs. 

 Through no fault of his own, Queen Arthur inherited one of the world’s worst foreign affair conflicts in history as the Diamond government demanded compensation for their introduction of the bug to their crops, and Spades denied any responsibility for the lack of preparedness on the part of Diamond’s farming protection or economic infrastructure. 

Thus a war broke out between the two kingdoms. Luckily, the Queen of Diamonds, Francis Bonnefoy, and Queen Arthur Kirkland had fluttered in similar social circles on opposing navy forces, during earlier military careers, before Oracle selected them for positions of royalty.

Due to their previously-held relationship, the conflicting countries maintained (albeit strained) contact.

However, twenty years later, the strung out conflict saw no resolution in sight. Neither party would budge. In the last two decades, Diamonds had mostly recovered, converting and subsidizing previously small industries to make up greater lumps of their exports. 

Diamond GDP had mostly recovered, and the occasional skirmishes along the Spades-Diamond borders had lost their impact to both sides' citizens.

Mentions often paralleled this tone:

“Hey mom, Junior’s little league game’s canceled. Queen Arthur just announced Diamond shots fired near the field.”

“Gee, I’m in absolute shock. Let’s order a Continental basket for the other team. I know those sweet kids were looking forward to a Spadian roast but it can’t be helped.”

“Yes, ma.”

“Our government should really step off their high horse- it’s practically a soap opera! ‘You sent our kingdom into a depression!’, ‘No, your lack of planning sunk your economy!’ Honestly. Time for Gen. Jones to call it cuts… bring the phone while you're up, let’s reserve that basket before we forget.”

“Yes, ma.”

And so you see, neither kingdom withheld reservations to mock the ongoing conflict. So far in, it was nothing more than a contest of resolve between two too-proud kingdoms.

Bi-annual tea shortages, sport game cancellations, flight and ship delays, internal division among governments… but neither party appeared to be dismounting their positions, and as the conflict neared its twentieth anniversary Spades-Diamond tension surged.

Unbeknownst to regular citizens, the jack, queen, and king of Spades had disappeared from the castle three weeks prior. 

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Drop-drop-drop sounded a mysteriously originating source of water, droplets plopping onto a moist stone ground. 

The Jack of Spades, dressed in creased gold, purple, and blue fabrics cast his eyes towards his hands where he organized a cheap deck of playing cards. 

The action demonstrated disinterest to anyone unattuned to Yao’s discreet mannerisms, but the way his fingers twitched to swipe brown hair behind his ear was telling.

“...I beg your pardon?”

Drop-drop-drop.

Army General Alfred Jones raised thin eyebrows above round glasses in a look that read “everyone in this dungeon heard me loud and clear”, but continued in a patronizingly careful tone. 

“You need a command like brown bananas to banana bread, or day-old rice to fried rice. Something that suits your past-prime station, y’know?”

Drop.

Arthur Kirkland’s forehead actually twitched but his expression remained unaffected. “Well done, dear. I’ll be the first to admit, never in a million years would I imagine you capable of something so complicated as a simile”.

“Har har, Your Majesty,” Alfred reached across the cramped cell to knock his knuckles against the wrought iron bars.

Drop-drip.

“When I met you, 200-odd years ago, those magic bones would have no problemo melting, or-or slicing through these bars like butter.”

“-OH be silent for once, blathering-”

“And now look at you!” Alfred flung his hand in the general direction of his husband, himself  melted on the floor, head balanced on a rock. “A washed-up seadog, no good for nothing but a semi-ok fuck. What the hell happened to you, man? You used to bring dragons to their knees. Now some Diamond-fired metal’s too much? Y’all know their quality’s shit,” he yawned.

“Retirement might be on the horizon, sweetheart. But no offense.”

Drop-drip-drop. Drip. 

Yao didn’t even blink when hands lept for King Alfred’s throat.

“Gah-!” Vague choking escaped Alfred’s mouth while his oily hair tossed wildly and his cheeks went red from the loss of air.

Drop-drop-drip.

“Worthless excuse for a leader, I’d sew your thin lips shut before these stinking walls hear another lie from them. Seadog I am- and proud, too!” Arthur gave one last throttle before throwing Alfred aside in disgust. 

It could have been his breath, too. They hadn’t exactly been given a toothbrush. Three weeks into captivity and their last frigid bucket shower was over four days ago.

At least they had a toilet, even if it was awfully cold when you sat. Stars above, Alfred wanted out. 

Patience, Alfred reminded himself. That voice in his head sounded suspiciously like a certain magical queen, and the king ignored his own internal voice which insisted self-restraint would never be his specialty.

Drop-drop-drop. 

The queen had retreated to the opposite wall to collect his composure, Alfred’s own ragged breathing filling the chamber and he coughed, once, before resuming his idle splay on the floor.

 Arthur ascertained the damage choking his spouse had cost his nails. 

“As for the jab at my sexual performance, love, I think everyone in this room can deny that claim with absolute confidence. Isn’t that right, Edison?”

Drop-drop-drop.

“H-huh?” Their guard startled at his post, not expecting to be addressed by name. His feet kicked at the ground, “Um. I-I guess rumors do get around.” Arthur turned smugly towards the army general and received a playful scoff for his troubles.

The jack spoke up, unimpressed by the exchange, “Do be mindful of others nearby who may not be so invested in his co-workers’ thrilling sexual escapades, please and thank yo-”

“Chow time!” Interrupted another guard, sliding three portions of beige sludge through a small slit in the bars, accompanied by biscuit. 

All three groaned.

“C’mon! I get the prisoner thing, but is this,” the queen knocked his biscuit against the bars and three weevils fell out, “really necessary?” said Alfred.

The guards shrugged with indifference and Yao dipped the corner of his flour ball in their water, softening it enough to break off a piece and chew. He paused, fiddled the bite with his tongue, then pulled a long, curled hair out from his teeth.

Both guards had left for a smoke break. 

With stony resolve, Yao declared, “We’re getting out of here tonight.”

“Fiunwwy!” said the king through his porridge. 

“Ditto,” Arthur scowled. “And, these meals aren’t so bad. Navy ships serve far worse.”

“Ugg. That doesn’t make you look good, Admiral.” Alfred took a small handful of his food and fed it to a cluster of shadows in the corner of their chamber.

Gotta keep his slimy friend nourished, Alfred smiled as the shadows accepted the grub.

Meal finished, Arthur tossed his tray through the bars and sat against the wall, joining Yao where the jack dealt out three piles of playing cards. His technique was quick and clean, and Arthur would never admit to admiring the show. 

Not even magic could put on that performance.

 Envy forced him to deign his husband with a response. “Do us all a favor and shut your trap.” 

Alfred clutched at imaginary pearls and Arthur smirked. “And finish your plate. Besides, army rations hardly pass as food, General Jones.”

Cramming the rest into his mouth with hardly a gag, Alfred discarded the plate and crawled towards the pair. He added an ass wiggle while Yao’s attention was elsewhere. The queen’s ears glowed red and he sneered at Alfred, disapproving of his husband dangling treats with no ability to give in the confined space.

Alfred laughed to himself. The queen was afflicted with an unfortunately high libido. Something which Alfred eagerly satisfied, even if his own needs paled in comparison. However…

Restricted to the meager dimensions of their cell with the observant jack… well, all jokes aside, the king looked with a mixture of trepidation and delight at the demolishment of his ass the moment they found a private space. 

They were lucky enough to acquire the deck of cards and spent their time playing every game under the sun- and some new. With Arthur’s unmet sexual needs and most forms of exercise impossible, stir-crazy was an insufficient descriptor for the kinetic energy burning through them. 

Cards helped starve off frustration, and offered an iota of normalcy.

Their favorite guard, Edison, returned from his break and all three royals exchanged glances. Alfred straightened up and humm-ed, “Did I ever tell y’all ‘bout that time Major Maisie single-handedly rallied the marines through Norbrandy?”

Yao and Arthur, having heard Alfred’s stories a million times, shook their heads. Alfred laid down a Four of Clubs and dove into his narrative, smiling behind his cards as Edison’s head tilted to hear their conversation better.

“Soulda heard from the boys direct-like. Said she flew in like a cannon. Fort Potomac was occupied by Hearts. Maisie rode in under the shield of fog, took one look at the opaque path ‘round the hill, and led her advance in the dead of night. Bombarded out of nowhere, King Kiku’s soldiers resisted heroically. But,” 

“Potomac was conquered by dawn, with only five Spadian casualties.” 

Arthur inspected his nails, ignoring the swell of power growing in his breast. “Impressive, I’m sure. What were the odds?”

As an ex-citizen of Spades (likely hired by Diamond forces for better wages than Spades’ less impressive salary), Edison’s vague admiration for his home-kingdom’s success fed the royals’ power. Having been away from the appraisal of most Spadian citizens for a month now, the ignorant guard was their only supplyant.

“Four Hearts soldiers to every one of ours.”

Alfred shivered in excitement when that number reached Edison’s ears and their unknowingly-benevolent guard emitted a burst of patriotism.

“Capital.” The queen spun a card onto the pile.

Yao delivered Arthur a sharp look. Sarcasm was fine, but not when a deaf person could hear it.

“500 points”, Yao announced in a tone which attempted neutrality but failed, tossing the last trick towards himself.

Arthur and Alfred groaned in unison, scratching one more check to the scoreboard on the stone wall. The box under “姚” had comically more checks than the “Al” and “K” beside it.

Alfred thought dreamily of their own castle’s gameroom, which displayed a point board of less comparatively devastating results. 

The king’s husband stared hard at their score board, then exchanged with Alfred a look he recognized as offense. Eyebrows drawn to etch little wrinkles above his nose and the tiniest sneer curling the right side of his mouth. 

The admiral’s tisk made Alfred break out into pearls of laughter and Yao allowed his own expression to revel in the satisfaction of besting his co-workers.

It was these shared moments which reminded Alfred of Oracle’s excellent match-making.

Drip.

Behind them, soldiers shuffled their shoes into the floor and small movements clinked metal armor. 

Probably jealous they weren’t in on the joke, heh.

Yao caught his eye, subtly jutted his chin towards their window. A few miles off an oncoming fog made itself known. Alfred nodded, canines flashing in his grin.

It was go time.

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That night, all men finished their trays of food, persevering through the mealy texture. 

Finally, after three weeks of drawing on Edison’s flaky Spadian patriotism, Yao, Arthur, and Alfred felt strong enough to fuel their escape. 

But that had been true for three nights now. There was something else they needed to ensure a successful breakout from Fort Shellac. They knew it was only a matter of time, in Diamond’s chilly forest climate, for moisture to collect in the air. All they had to do was intensify the natural way of things.

 In the ancient and clammy foundation of their prison, fog poured in through the bars and it only took slight encouragement from Arthur for a Féth fíada to emerge.

“Maisie’s a mage as well as a scientist, no?” asked Yao as the mist grew thicker.

Alfred nodded proudly, cupping something close to his chest so he wouldn’t lose it in his blindness. “Made her own fog machine and bribed some fairies to superpower it- resourceful as always.”

Their security was starting to notice the clouds curling at their metal feet and muttered in distress while their prisoners whispered and waited.

Moonlight cast its reflection on the fog, and as the minutes passed the damp room filled with blue hues.

Drop.

“H-hey!” Edison finally addressed them, kicking spastically at the vapor as though it could be intimidated by violence. He pointed an accusatory finger at Arthur, who played a game of Patience against the tilted wall, “You’ve something to do with this, necromancer?”

Drop-drop-drop.

The Queen of Spades didn’t respond, pulling an ace from the stockpile and whipping it at his captor. 

It bounced off Edison’s helmet.

“What on Earth?” The guards watched in horror as the fog swallowed up their legs and began on their chests. “Find the director,” one snapped. Edison didn’t waste a moment, keys clanging in his grip as he scrambled to the exit. 

His hurried footsteps echoed through the stairway while silence enveloped the prison. Yao could smell anxiety pouring from the invisible guards, the gentle clinking of their metal armor interrupting an otherwise soundless environment.

Suddenly the cast iron bars screamed, brute force bending and tearing through the metalwork. “Merde!” cursed a Diamond accent.

“That’s a lad,” complemented Arthur, patting his husband’s back while the King of Spades huffed another breath before finishing the job, ripping the door out of its hole with one last ear-splitting jerk. 

With inhuman speed Alfred was gone in the fog. Before the unfortunate Diamond soldiers realized, their prisoner smashed them apart so they couldn’t see the other. 

“Heh- happy to help.” Alfred smothered the unnamed guard’s mouth, delivering a fist into the armored abdomen. The force was enough to penetrate the protective metal and padded fabric and the body slumped instantly, held up by Alfred’s hand gripping his face. 

Yao stepped over the raw metal of their prison door and into the face of Alfred’s catch. The Jack of Spades reached into the guard’s fauld and produced a string, on which he pulled and produced a small sheet of inscribed metal. In complete blindness Yao skimmed his finger beds along the sheet, memorizing the meaning of the indents, before stepping back and handling it the the Queen, who confirmed his interpretation with a hum.

“Thank Oracle for y’all’s Diamindortic, couldn’t read it even if I could see an inch from my face,” Alfred said, dropping the unconscious body and listening with satisfaction as it crashed into the floor.

Dusting off his hands, the cluster of shadows from their cell made itself known against Alfred’s prosthetic leg, oozing up the complicated gears and bolts. It chirped.

“Butters would like some gravity, Arthur,” Alfred said, taking “Butters” from his thigh and flailing in the air before locating the queen’s outstretched hand.

Butters slid the languid journey onto Arthur’s palm and waited patiently for the kiss which Arthur pressed to its head. “Erg. Revulsion doesn’t scratch the surface of your pet’s chosen skin.”

“Yeah, I know. But the mucus keeps ‘im healthy!

A large silhouette, barely discernible in the air, expanded before the three Spadian royals. It stopped growing at around six feet tall and sneezed when Yao touched its nose, approximately the size of a bocce ball.

“What a fine boy,” the jack complimented Butters’ chosen form, petting what felt like an enormous panda.

Yao felt the round ears under his hands and the strength behind the bones of its face. The doublecoat swallowed his fingers when the jack adoringly brushed them under Alfred’s pet’s ears. Beneath Butters’ muzzle were thick canines, and from the animals’ stomping Yao sensed hoofs rather than paws.

“Excellent form, bao.”

Butters wiggled at the praise.

With reluctance Yao released Butters from his coddling and stepped back, allowing the king’s approach towards his service animal. 

Steps hurried down the staircase towards them, the sound bouncing off the walls like a stampede of metal-wearing bison. 

“Time to go,” Arthur said, dragging a sword off an unconscious guard and advancing towards the stairwell, blade tip forward-facing. Yao chose a barbed mace from his own casualty and wasted no time in singing it through the air.

Alfred cringed against Butters’ neck after mounting, listening with unwanted familiarity to the shrieks and groans of wounded men and women. He had blown off many faces in his long career, but avoided violence when he could. 

Right now they could not, and Alfred didn’t bother looking away when he held out two fingers and punctured a soldier through the neck as he and Butters rounded the last turn. 

Ignoring any pain emitting from the base of his amputated leg, Alfred ushered Butters onward, the overgrown puppy smashing a recovering enemy back into the stone as they ascended the stairs behind his queen and jack. 

Arthur’s weapon, guided under the experienced swordsmanship of a centuries-old navy admiral, sliced through Diamond flesh like butter. The queen was momentarily distracted by Yao’s comment and jammed the mental length through a ribcage up to the hilt. 

The soldier’s scream was cut off as blood pooled up her throat and over her teeth, and when yanking went nowhere Arthur pressed one foot against the woman’s side and pushed, orange blood spurting all over him as the body crashed, limp and lifeless. 

“Somehow,” panted Yao mid-run, “I didn’t expect so much blood.”

“We didn’t correctly anticipate enemy numbers,” Arthur nodded. “Either our previous estimations of Fort Shellac were off by hundreds, or Diamonds has since fortified its defense.”

“Fucking Francis,” Arthur grumbled to himself, sweat pouring down from his hairline and mixing with the Diamond blood on his cheek.

In Alfred’s marital opinion, his husband looked actually terrifying- and handsome as heck.

“You better not be,” Alfred laughed. In front of him, Yao groaned in a mix of exasperation and disgust.

“Spare me,” the jack pleaded.

Two pairs of feet and one set of hoofs ran along the fort’s main floor, evading who they could and decommissioning any who they couldn’t with little regard for the permanentness of the blow.

With poor Edison’s admiration for Spades to blame, amassed over weeks of captivity, the three royals utilized their inhumane strength without restraint, bulldozing through room after room, leaving behind a trail of massacred soldiers, heads and limbs and organs soaking the stone floor with orange and yellow blood. Like a line of sheets hung out to dry whipped up by a hurricane, screams tore and ripped themselves out from the throats of the wounded and dying. 

“And that’s why we don’t wear white to the wedding,” Alfred joked at a guard’s white armor soaked through with orange “wine”. General Jones maintained a light mood with breathless chatter and the queen and jack responded in kind.

Anyone watching might express disgust at their attitude, might expect more from such experienced political figures. 

The seasoned monarchs had no reason for suppressing resentment, for the trust broken and their own time wasted and negligent treatment, and did not benefit by acknowledging the graveness of their actions in the moment.

Kidnapping a suit’s royalty was a serious crime, war or no war. It would spell out a dreadful escalation back home. The Spadian monarchs were no wet-behind-the-ear politicians- they were representatives of an empire, with a responsibility to their kingdom above all else.

King Rajesh and Queen Francis would regret their decision, and the first part of Spades’ retribution began with the public condemnation which would befall Diamond royalty when the media caught wind of Fort Shellac’s heavy casualties.

Finally, Yao caught sight of sunlight streaming in through the squares of the portcullis. "सृष्टि डायमंड्स के साम्राज्य और इसे बनाए रखने वाले सभी लोगों को अच्छे अवसर प्रदान करे।, “ said the jack without much relish, quoting from the metal sheet’s engravings. 

Only four women stood guard and they jumped in surprise at the correct spell, frozen with disbelief as the gate lifted.

The moment they advanced, the three royals were gone. Beneath them Butters galloped past, encouraged by Arhur’s remaining strength. They rode mile after mile, thoroughly exhausted by their massive expense of magical energy in so short a time.

The Clock gave them inhumane tolerance, but it would never be enough to keep the strain off their bodies in a fight like that. 

Eventually, Butters’ pace petered until he came to a complete stop on a road.

Arthur and Alfred had passed out against the soft fur off Butters’ back, too exhausted to stay awake.

The weight of Yao’s eyelids threatened him with the same fate, but sleep wasn’t an option until they were with Spadian authorities. 

Thankfully, Spades and Diamonds shared a long boarder and Yao only had to encourage Butters for another hour before a Spadian soldier’s blue armor could be spotted up the road.

She saw them immediately and grabbed her sidearm as she walked up. “Identify yourselves,” she demanded.

Without the energy to even speak, Yao peeled Alfred’s head from between Butters’ ears and used his sleeve to wipe the grime and caked blood from his face.

She recognized her army general immediately, even beneath the thickly remaining dirt, and dropped her weapon to fall to attention.

“Y-your majesties! My deepest, sincerest apologies, I didn’t recognize-,” She stumbled over her words, clearly struggling to find the next course of action.

“It’s fine,” waved aside the jack, feeling himself losing against consciousness. The woman before him might be a fresh recruit but he could care less. The sparkling spade over her breast was all that mattered.

“Just lead him to the nearest lookout,” Yao pointed to Butters. “Don’t bother waking us up,” Yao said before he slumped like a deck of cards with his king and queen, dead to the world.

[charlotte--kensington]

More Valentine's/White Day fics!

In which Arthur learns that sometimes he should stop worrying and trust his husband a little more.

Or

Arthur freaks out about whether Alfred might be cheating, only to once again discover that he married a sappy dork and there was never a reason to worry in the first place.

---

3.8K featuring a worried Arthur, a sappy dork Alfred and the proof that not all things are as they look. Written for the Valentine's/White Day event of the @usuknetwork

[demonicpiano]

FLUTTER NOTES

8K words, Canonverse, post WWII. Written for the @usuknetwork's Valentines/White Day 2023 event.

Somebody keeps leaving England these romantic little notes. Who could it possibly be?!??! The answer may blow your socks clean into another realm.

[amaranthinecanicular]

hardly a time for sobriety

Maybe too much eggnog? Maybe too much eggnog. Alfred, elementary math teacher extraordinaire, has had it bad for the high school AP English teacher ever since he subbed in for the elementary school librarian, but this is definitely the first time he’s told anyone about it. It’s also the first time he’s described it as having “the hottie hot hots for Professor Snack over there.” 

[Written for @sterndecorum (a million years late, as per usual) for the 2018 @usuknetwork Gift Exchange. I’m so sorry, but I hope you enjoy! Happy belated holidays!]

....

Maybe too much eggnog? Maybe too much eggnog. Like, Alfred has had it bad for the high school AP English teacher ever since he subbed in for the elementary school librarian, but this is definitely the first time he’s told anyone about it. It’s also the first time he’s described it as having “the hottie hot hots for Professor Snack over there.” Elizaveta, who teaches art, looks delighted. Kiku, the librarian, looks profoundly uncomfortable.

Alfred tries to grimace but it feels kind of sloppy on his face. “Don’t think I meant to say that. Too much eggnog?”

“Too much eggnog,” Kiku confirms. At the same time Elizaveta says, “Are you kidding? Not enough eggnog. I’ve had to watch you pine away every time Kirkland drops off lunch for his brother. You are ending my misery tonight.”

She hands Alfred another plastic cup of ‘nog while Kiku makes a despairing noise in the back of his throat. It is possible that Elizaveta has also had too much eggnog. Sober Alfred would probably be embarrassed to learn that his affections have been transparent for the last several months. Sober Alfred might also call it quits on the alcohol before he really makes a poor decision amongst all his coworkers and peers. Sober Alfred has left the building, thank god, because that guy is a drag.

He takes some fortifying gulps of his new drink and spies stealthily--he hopes it’s stealthy, he sure feels stealthy--on Arthur from across the faculty room, which was definitely not meant to accommodate this many drunk teachers. He’s chatting with the high school French teacher and the severe-looking middle school principal. (The holiday party is district wide this year. It’s a cutbacks thing.) It’s hard to tell if Arthur is enjoying the conversation or not. Mostly he’s scowling. It’s ten kinds of adorable. So is his stodgy old man sweater vest. Alfred wants to kiss his eyebrows.

“Please never say that again,” says Kiku in a strained voice. Whoops, that last part may have been out loud. Too much eggnog. He takes another sip anyway.

“Hey, s’your fault for calling in sick that day,” he says. September fourteenth, two PM, Alfred will never forget it. He walked the kids from math to the library and he thought hey it’s that one grumpy asshole and then the grumpy asshole spoke all soft and sweet to the kids and he read Charlotte’s Web so pretty and Alfred’s next thought was oh shit oh fuck I’m going to marry him someday. And that was completely sober. “Shame on you for marathoning the Silent Hill games so early in the school year. And also for not inviting me. No one but y’rself to blame.”

Kiku takes a grim sip of his tea. Yeesh, tea at a holiday party. “I am aware.”

Just then the French teacher laughs loudly enough for Alfred to hear it. A hand lands on Arthur’s shoulder. In the fuzzy recesses of his brain two stray thoughts connect with a spark: laughing and touching counts as flirting. The French teacher flirting with Arthur. The French teacher marrying Arthur, which would seriously impede Alfred’s plans to marry Arthur. The French teacher must die.

Well, okay, no, he doesn’t have to die die. But Alfred has to kill his chances. He mumbles something to Elizaveta and Kiku that might be an explanation or might just be drunken gibberish and he marches off in Arthur’s direction. The middle school principal is gone, off talking to a guy Alfred thinks might be the middle school Italian teacher. He wants to put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder like the French teacher did, but he doesn’t trust his buzzy fingers. His hands end up in his pockets instead. “Hey there, Mr. Kirkland. Fancy meeting you here,”

Arthur turns. So does the French teacher, but Alfred notices that peripherally. Maybe Arthur’s scowl softens a little to see him. Maybe that’s just Alfred’s drunk brain talking.

“Francis,” Arthur says to the French teacher, “Isn’t your presence required elsewhere?”

“And where would that be, mon cher?” says Francis, with a leer in Alfred’s direction. Arthur grits his teeth.

“Literally anywhere else.”

“Ah, yes, of course. An appointment I cannot miss. Joyeux Noël, my friends!” He flounces toward the refreshment table, and gives Alfred a wink on the way. It might be flirty, or it might be… a good luck wink? Is that a thing? He doesn’t really know, and he really doesn’t care. Arthur returns his attention to Alfred with a raised brow.

“Mr. Jones. Glad to see you’ve decided a conversation with me is preferable to staring.”

Ouch. Not so stealthy. “Ha, yeah. Didn’t want to interrupt earlier. So, are you and Mr. Frenchy an item, or?”

Okay, wow, not what he meant to say. Bad eggnog, no more eggnog. Luckily Arthur seems too appalled by the suggestion itself to be creeped out by Alfred suggesting it. “Good lord, no. Francis and I? The mere thought is repulsive. I may gag.”

“Oof, wouldn’t want that. Glad to hear it, though. I was worried.”

Arthur’s eyes snap up. Too strong? Maybe.

“Were you?” he says, and whoa, not too strong, apparently. Not too strong at all.

Alfred, smooth and confident in the way of the inebriated, says, “Wanna go to IHOP?”

....

The truth is it’s only half Kiku’s fault. The library incident wasn’t the first time Alfred met Arthur. For the past two years Peter Kirkland has been in Alfred’s rotating fourth and fifth grade math classes—a good kid, high energy and real bright—which meant parent teacher conferences with his brother and guardian. It’s… safe to say they didn’t get off on the right foot. Alfred has handled rude parents before. Whatever! Usually his incredible charm and wit were enough to makeup for it. But no, not with Mr. Kirkland. Mr. Kirkland was tenured, he had years of experience on naive little green-gilled elementary teacher Alfred, and in his professional opinion problem children like Peter needed to be disciplined rather than coddled, and quite frankly he did not think much of Alfred’s nonsensical, feel-good, soft-bellied teaching methods.

In response Alfred had maybe called him a crabby old geezer, and maybe mentioned something about teaching an old dog new tricks, and maybe that was all the PG version. Arthur Kirkland was nothing more to Alfred than a grumpy asshole. Albeit a grump with great bone structure and a sexy accent.

And then Arthur subbed in for Kiku, and everything was different.

“Here we are!”

Alfred sweeps into a bow and scoots Arthur’s chair out for him because he’s a gentleman. (At this time of night the IHOP is a seat yourself kind of establishment.) There’s cheery Christmas music playing over the speakers. Alfred wanted the corner booth—much more romantic—but some gooey-eyed teens are hogging it. Stupid gooey-eyed teens.

“Here we are indeed,” says Arthur. He’s eyeing the vinyl cushion like it carries a venereal disease. “Honestly, half the reason I agreed to come was because I wanted to see if you were taking the piss. But lo and behold: The International House of Pancakes.” He takes a seat. Gingerly. “That name always struck me as overly dignified for this establishment.”

“Hey, don’t hate. I eat breakfast here once a week.” The elementary school is across town, but it’s worth the drive. Thank god the high school is within walking distance. He adds, “So, that was only half the reason, huh? What was the other half?”

Arthur taps the side of his nose. “I’m very certain I’m not drunk enough to tell you.”

Alfred remembers, suddenly, what drink Arthur had been nursing at the Christmas party. He grins a slow grin. “You were spiking your tea, Artie?”

Arthur flushes, maybe because he’s a little drunker than Alfred thought, but probably because Alfred just called him Artie. Good idea, drunk Alfred.

“Only because conversation with Francis was otherwise intolerable. I much prefer talking to you.” He gets a look on his face like he just heard what he said, and he flushes even prettier. “Don’t get the wrong idea. A Christmas ham would be a better conversation partner than that frog.”

Any further research into how pink Alfred can make Arthur blush is interrupted by the arrival of their waitress. She’s new, a friendly girl named Michelle who smiles a lot and takes quick notes. By the time she’s got their order—a tea for Arthur, a little of everything for Alfred—Alfred has learned that she’s studying speech pathology, she’s home for holiday break, and that she got her sister a dinosaur building kit for Christmas.

“Oh sweet, what kind of dinosaur?” says Alfred.

“A ceratosaurus,” says Michelle.

“Ooh, deep cut! Nice!”

They high five. Alfred asks, “You don’t have any eggnog, do you?”

“I’m afraid not. We have eggnog pancakes, though, how does that sound?”

Arthur gags quietly. Alfred ignores this. “Sounds awesome! I’ll have an order of those too.”

After she walks away Alfred addresses the look on Arthur’s face. “Yes, professor?”

“You want to drink more of that swill?” he says, all dubious like.

“Dude! Eggnog is the drink of the season.”

“There are many drinks of the season. Sherry. Scotch. Brandy. Tea.”

“By that logic you’ll spend the whole holiday break completely sloshed.”

Arthur chuckles. “The holidays are hardly a time for sobriety.”

Alfred can’t really argue with that. “I’m pretty sure you drink tea all the time.”

“Because tea is a drink for every season.”

This is the moment that Michelle returns with the tea, because apparently she has a great sense of dramatic timing. Arthur prepares the cup and smirks at Alfred over the rim, as though that proves his point at all, and all Alfred can think about is how tea is a much more charming drink in Arthur’s hand than it is in Kiku’s. Alfred wants to know more about the kind of tea he drinks. He wants to learn how to make the perfect cup, so he can make it for Arthur every day. He wants to know Arthur’s opinion on coffee. What his favorite food is. If he likes cats or dogs. He looks like a cat person. What was his home life like? Where in Britain did he grow up? Did he always want to be a teacher? Alfred wants to know… everything. He never wants to stop learning about him.

He says, “Tell me more about yourself.”

Arthur goes very still. “Why?”

“Because this is a date.” Sober Alfred is pretty direct. Drunk Alfred isn’t much different.

Now Arthur goes very red. “I’m afraid there’s not much to tell.”

“That can’t be true. Why’d you come to America? Got tired of jolly old England?”

“My goodness, no. My heart will always belong to my dearest Albion.” Alfred suspects that’s an old nerdy name for England, but he can’t be sure. He’s a math whiz, not a history buff. “No, it was just typical family drama. Peter and I hopped across the pond to escape it. All very British, very boring.”

Maybe Arthur is a little more guarded as he says that. And wistful. The peppy Jingle Bell Rock has transitioned to the crooning I’ll Be Home For Christmas and suddenly Alfred is very sad. He wants to say so. He wants to say that Arthur’s family doesn’t deserve him or Peter, and that he can tell Alfred anything, everything, because he’ll never hurt him the way they did. But even smashed he can tell that Arthur doesn’t want to talk about it, so instead he says, “How is Peter?”

Arthur’s face softens. “A wee little shite, as per usual. He’s at a sleepover right now. But he’s doing better in maths, at least.”

He raises his cup in a small, half-ironic toast to Alfred’s awesome teaching skills. Alfred tries not to preen and isn’t so sure he succeeds.  “Yeah, well, he’s a good kid. They all are. They make my job easy.”

“I doubt that,” Arthur snorts. “But you are Peter’s favorite teacher, which is saying something. He absolutely hated maths before you came along.” His tone turns thoughtful. He rests his chin in his palm. “You’re good with him. Good with all of them, I see it when I drop off Peter’s lunch. Though I maintain that you could stand to be a little more disciplinary.”

“You’re good with them too,” Alfred says, high on a cloud of Arthur’s regard. “You subbed in for Kiku once. I saw you. It was really sweet, and I realized…”

This is what Alfred realized after he saw Arthur in the library: Mr. Tenured Teacher, Sir High and Mighty, Cynicism and Discipline Incarnate, is a huge fucking softie. He quilts, crochets, and embroiders. (Thank you Kiku, mutual friend with all the secrets.) He’s hard on his students but he refuses to let any of them fail. (Also Kiku.) He criticizes Peter and the quality of his education because he cares—like, really really cares. Alfred picked up on that himself. He brings the kid homemade lunch every day. He leaves him notes in his lunchbox. Alfred’s not proud to admit it but he peeked over Peter’s shoulder the one time he pulled one out in math. It read: Always cover your mouth when you sneeze or cough. I love you. Alfred is willing to bet every note has some banal tidbit of advice and closes out the same way. If he and Arthur got together, would Arthur slip him notes, too? I love you.

“You realized?”

Arthur is watching him, has been watching him, and his eyes are super green, all bright and Christmassy under the IHOP fluorescents. Alfred is pretty sure the teens in the corner booth are watching them now but he’s also pretty sure he doesn’t care. There are so many things he could say and they all crowd together in his throat, vying for favor. In the time it takes for him to pick the perfect one Michelle arrives with the food, and the moment passes.

A veritable feast of greasy breakfast foods lands on the table: pancakes, waffles, eggs. Bacon and sausage. Various assortments of fruit and butter and jam. Alfred nudges forward his eggnog pancakes. “Want a bite?”

Arthur grimaces. “Absolutely not. That looks utterly unappetizing.”

Alfred will not deny this. Most of the food is green for some Grinch promotional thing IHOP is doing, but hey, at least it’s festive. And delicious. Alfred says so.

“No thank you.” Arthur’s stomach says otherwise. “Well. Those eggs look edible, I suppose.”

They eat (Alfred eats, Arthur pecks) and they chat, and it’s magical. Arthur tells funny stories about Peter’s terrible twos, grudgingly and then not so grudgingly, and Alfred talks about his brother and his totally-not-pot farm in Canada.

He’s finally sobering up—all the greasy food helps—and the night never gets any less magical. It feels more magical somehow.

He says, “So, have I made you an IHOP convert?”

Arthur sighs, theatrically put upon. “I suppose it’s charming, in a slovenly way. Something like you.”

Alfred rolls his eyes. “Ooh, you’re making me blush. Tell me more.”

But Arthur doesn’t tell him more because he’s too busy giving the stink eye to something over Alfred’s shoulder. Ah. The booth teens. Alfred gives a very extremely subtle glance back… yeah, wow, they are going at it. Teenage hormones are no joke.

“Kids these days, honestly. They should be studying,” Arthur seethes.

“For what? It’s Friday and classes are over next week,” says Alfred, but before he can finish his sentence Arthur has struck like a god damn cobra and stolen a bit of hashbrown and chucked it at the booth. It occurs to Alfred that Arthur might still be pretty hammered. How much rum did he put in his tea, for real?

It plops square in a mug of hot chocolate. At a loss for what else to do, Alfred kind of shriek laughs. “Oh my god, are you twelve?”

He dares a peek back at the spluttering teenagers and then back to Arthur and--Arthur is shrugging at the teens and pointing at Alfred. “You are twelve! Traitor!”

He spoons whipped cream off the top of his hot chocolate and daubs Arthur’s nose with it. For a second Arthur looks fit to bust, and sure a drunken temper tantrum sounds cute but it might lose Alfred a chance at a second date. Then Arthur reaches over the table, scoops the whole pile of whipped cream from the plate of pancakes with his bare hand, and smears it all over Alfred’s face.

While Arthur is cackling, Alfred says, “Marry me.”

Arthur stops cackling. He stares, and under the weight of it Alfred sobers up the rest of the way all at once. Did he just ruin everything? Of course he did. Drunk Alfred, that dumbass, always ruins everything and now he’s going to die old and alone, dreaming about what could have been if only he hadn’t asked Arthur Kirkland to marry him in an IHOP.

“Snrk,” says Arthur.

That’s the sound he makes—snrk. Then he’s snorting, then he’s laughing, and it’s inelegant and undignified and Alfred is in love.

“So is that a yes?” he says, and Arthur gives him a narrow look. He wipes his face with a napkin—Alfred belatedly follows suit—and flags Michelle down for the check.

Arthur scoffs, “You think I’d say yes to a proposal on a first date? In the International House of Pancakes?”

He’s not mad. Alfred can hardly believe it. He still has a chance. “Hey, depends on the date.”

They split the bill. Arthur is the faster tipper so in return Alfred pays for the Uber. The teens are gone from the booth, though Alfred didn’t see them leave. They’re not in the parking lot either, which is good, because it would be super awkward to have to wait for the Uber with them.

The air is cold. They’re standing very near. The sky is heavy and close with clouds, but Arthur is watching it like he might see the stars beyond. After a second, Alfred does too.

He says to the sky, “Wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no, either.”

And Arthur says to the sky, “Don’t push your luck, Mr. Jones. We hardly know each other. Even you can’t be that idealistic.”

There’s not enough liquid bravery left in Alfred’s veins to tell Arthur that he is.

The Uber arrives. Arthur offers to share, but Alfred lives too far from the high school to leave his car there. He opens the door for Arthur. He closes the door for Arthur. It’s stupid but the thought of saying goodbye to him right now—not forever, not even for a whole weekend—is breaking his heart. He doesn’t know how to end tonight. Doesn’t know if they’re leaving on a good note or a bad one.

“Ask me again.”

The window is rolled down. Arthur is watching him. His eyes are glowing and his cheeks are pink and his breath is misting in the air, so Alfred can see the exact shape of his words when he says, “Later. Much, much later. Many dates from now. In a restaurant that lives up to its name, and preferably when we’re not both completely crocked. Ask me again. Maybe then I’ll be as idealistic as you.”

Alfred can’t think of a single thing to say and so he doesn’t. He leans down and Arthur leans up and the angle is awkward because Arthur is dangling half out a window but Alfred is certain he’s never had a more perfect kiss in all his life.

Joy is light, effervescent. It fizzes and bubbles and buoys Alfred and he wonders if there was alcohol in those eggnog pancakes after all. He watches the tail lights twinkle off into the night, and then he turns to start the trek back to the high school. He’s going to have to wait out the last of the buzz in his car, but he can’t bring himself to feel too bothered. It’s the holidays, after all. Hardly a time for sobriety. Overhead, it begins to snow.

[literallyusuk]

Purrfect Christmas (USUK)

Summary: Cats for Christmas! Domestic AU.

Notes: Hey hey @midnightleone I was sorry to hear that your original Secret Santa fell through but I gotchu! I whipped up a little somethin’ somethin’ for you based off of your ‘Getting/giving a pet for Christmas’ prompt! I really hope you enjoy it!

For the 2018 @usuknetwork Secret Santa! I didn’t actually partake myself since I forgot to sign up in time lmao but I’m glad I was able to do something for it anyway! Hope y’all enjoy!

Also on AO3 though no links since Tumblr’s a butt about it. Link to my AO3 is on the side though!!

Warnings: Lil bit of language.

“How was he for you?” Arthur asked, reaching down to stroke the fat cat in his arms.

“He definitely lives up to his name. He’s such a ham,” Gilbert replied, snickering.

“Excuse you, his name is Hamlet.”

The German man waved a hand dismissively. “Hamlet, Ham, either works. He eats like a pig and wails like the world is ending if you’re even five minutes late feeding him.” He reached over and scratched behind Hamlet’s ears. “He’s cute though. Alfred’s gonna love him.”

The cat, a big Maine Coon, stretched out into both of their touches. He was a beautiful cream colour with rich brown accents around his feet, neck, face, and the tip of his tail. His purring rumbled throughout his whole body, and his blue eyes were half-closed in contentment. He was big enough that he spilled out over Arthur’s lap and onto the couch, and if he stretched up on his back paws, he had enough height to reach onto the kitchen countertops if he so chose.

“Thank you for agreeing to look after him for these few days. A year ago I might have been able to keep him hidden myself, but since we moved in together, there was no hope.” Arthur smiled down when Hamlet turned his face into his hand, licking at his fingertips.

Gilbert smirked then.

“What?”

“No, nothing. It’s been, uh, fun. Yeah. Might get a cat too or something after this.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed, but Gilbert refused to say anything else. After draining his teacup, he scooped the big cat up and into the cat carrier at his feet and, after a final farewell to Gilbert, headed home with his present.

The evening was cold and brisk, the stars glittering overhead from a clear sky. Arthur’s breath puffed out in front of him as he strode down the sidewalk, and he burrowed his nose into his scarf and coat collar. He only hoped that this evening would go well; he didn’t want to keep Hamlet stuck inside of a box for too long, so timing would be everything. Alfred’s oblivious tendencies would work in his favour, for once.

Despite it being around seven on Christmas Eve, there was still a good amount of people in the streets, and Arthur often had to sidestep around someone or pause to keep the cat crate from bumping into someone’s body or bags. The walk from Gilbert’s apartment building to his and Alfred’s was only ten minutes, but crossed a few busier intersections.

“Just a little longer, boy,” Arthur murmured as he waited at one of the crosswalks. He tilted the cat carrier to be able to peer into it, and was met by Hamlet’s inquisitive stare. The cat didn’t seem stressed at all, just interested in his surroundings.

Arthur smiled to himself. He and Alfred had been talking about adopting a cat for a few months now, but their planning hadn’t gotten much farther than agreeing they both wanted one from a shelter and at some point in the future. Though he would have liked to go with Alfred to pick one out, Arthur also figured that giving Alfred a cat as one of his Christmas presents would also be really romantic. They could always go together in the future if they ever wanted another cat.

The light changed and Arthur stepped out quickly to avoid being jostled. Five minutes later, he sighed as he moved out of the cold into his lobby. His fingers and toes had regained feeling by the time the elevator stopped at his floor, and his heart rate sped up a bit as he approached the door.

He set the carrier down when he unlocked it and swung it open a crack. “Alfred?” he called.

The lights were off in the apartment.

There was no answer.

Arthur let out a quiet breath and smiled down at Hamlet again. “Good thing his work friends celebrate Christmas Eve and invited him over, huh?” he asked as he carried the cat inside and locked the door behind him. Bless Toris and Feliks, honestly.

He didn’t bother taking his shoes or coat off yet and took Hamlet into the guest bedroom. The closet there was small but stuffed full of mostly Arthur’s things, so Alfred wasn’t likely to go looking in there. He’d set up a litter box on the floor earlier, as well as putting down a cat bed, a bowl of water, and two toys.

“You’ll have to stay here for a little while, until after we eat dinner,” he told Hamlet as he picked the cat up out of the carrier and into his arms.

Hamlet mrrowed and butted his nose against Arthur’s chin before looking around the room.

Arthur smiled as he kissed the top of the cat’s head. “You can look around properly later, hmm? Once Alfred’s seen you. I’ll get you some food and you just need to be a little patient, darling.”

He placed the cat down into the closet and turned the light on. Hamlet immediately started batting at one of the mouse toys and sniffing around it and the bed. The Brit smiled as he shut the door, leaving the light on inside so Hamlet would be able to see while he waited.

A quick trip to the kitchen later and Arthur was back with a bowl of mixed wet and dry food that he’d hidden at the back of the cleaning supplies cupboard for the past few days. He stayed long enough to make sure that Hamlet had started to eat, then closed the door again and started on the rest of the preparations.

The prepared present box for Hamlet was stuffed under their bed. It was a pre-wrapped box with a top that could easily be removed and air holes already punched into it. The wrapping paper on the outside was busy enough that the holes were unnoticeable. Arthur had another cat bed on the bottom of the box, as well as another toy to keep Hamlet entertained for the hopefully short duration he’d be inside of it. He carried it to the guest bedroom for later on, then started on preparing a light dinner for the two of them.

There would be a proper turkey tomorrow at Alfred’s parents’ house, so for the evening the Brit settled on a simpler pan-seared steak and mash with roasted Brussels sprouts. He’d been practicing with Francis’s help, and at their latest cooking session, his French friend had been impressed at the results. Alfred could down anything remotely edible, he knew, but he still hoped his fiancé would enjoy it.

He had just finished plating everything when he heard the lock click and the front door open again.

“I’m home!” Alfred called, sounding a little bit hoarse.

Alarmed, Arthur poked his head out of the doorway to see Alfred somewhat struggling with a large wrapped box in his arms. “Oh dear, do you need help?” he asked, stepping forward.

“No!” Alfred yelped, his arms tightening around the box a little bit as he nudged the door closed with his foot. “Could you lock the door though?”

“Sure.”

Alfred edged around him and hurried into the living room to put the box under their small tree. By then Arthur had locked the door and turned around, only to be swept up into strong arms.

He laughed as Alfred spun him around. The laughter quickly turned into a squeal when Alfred pressed his still-cold cheek against his own, but he kissed his fiancé anyway. “How was the party?”

“Pretty chill. Tor and Fel opted for a smaller gathering this year, so it was only their closest friends. They were pretty bummed you couldn’t make it- Fel still insists you’re some sort of cryptid, but I promised to try and get you out next year.”

Arthur snorted. “We could have lunch with them sometime before then, too.”

“Yeah?” Alfred grinned brightly and kissed him again. “I’ll call Toris in a few days or something.”

“Sounds a plan. Now come on, food’s just ready.” Arthur tangled their fingers together as he tugged him off to the kitchen.

“And presents after?” Alfred followed him eagerly, sniffing at the air with appreciation. “Smells good, Art.”

“One present each today, like we agreed.” Though he shivered when he felt Alfred’s lips on the back of his neck, Arthur rolled his eyes and didn’t turn around to see the puppy eyes that were surely on display. “The rest tomorrow.”

“Okay, okay,” Alfred said with a defeated chuckle and nuzzled to him for a moment before looking over the plates. “Holy shit, you made all this yourself? It looks restaurant quality, babe.”

Arthur flushed happily at the praise. “Thank you, love. I hope it tastes okay as well.”

“I’m sure it will. You’re getting real good at cooking now. No more breaking the oven like freshman year of uni, huh?”

“I’ll have you know that was an accident.”

“Still on that train, huh?” Alfred teased as he moved the plates to the eating nook.

“Of course.” Arthur sniffed haughtily, but smiled as he slid in across from Alfred. He set a bottle of sparkling water and two glasses onto the table as well.

Dinner passed with Alfred telling stories from Christmas Eve at Toris and Feliks’s, as well as a drawn-out game of footsie under the table. Even after their plates were empty they sat at the table, nursing their glasses and laughing together.

Eventually, Arthur jolted. He reached out across the table and tapped Alfred’s hand, drawing the other man’s attention. “I think you’ve been patient enough. Present time?” He also didn’t want Hamlet to be alone in the closet for too long.

Alfred beamed at him. “Hell yeah!”

“Alright. I’ll go get yours real quick?”

“Oooh, mysterious.”

“Very,” Arthur said with a snort.

“I’ll clean up while you do, then! Wait for me in the living room when you’re ready?”

“Alright.” After a quick kiss, Arthur slid out of his seat and hurried down the hall to the guest room.

Luckily, he didn’t have to worry about Hamlet. The big cat was sprawled out over the pet bed, asleep with the toy mouse between his outstretched paws. He opened his eyes when the closet door opened and purred at the sight of Arthur crouching over him.

“Hello, big boy,” Arthur whispered, happy to stroke behind Hamlet’s ears. “Your big moment is coming soon. If you’re good, I’ll sneak you a few extra treats before bed tonight.”

Hamlet’s purring only increased in volume.

“Alright, come on, up you come.” Arthur grunted a little bit as he lifted the Maine Coon up and into his arms.

It was a slight struggle to manoeuvre the box from under the bed with roughly twenty pounds of limp cat in his arms, but after a few minutes Arthur managed to shove Hamlet inside. Ruffled but unbothered, Hamlet peered up at him with wide blue eyes before the Brit secured the top into place.

“You’ll be in there for just a few minutes, I promise,” Arthur told him.

Alfred was still washing up when Arthur made it into the living room, so Arthur settled on the couch with Hamlet’s box in his lap instead of under the tree while he waited. The American walked into the living room a few minutes later, lighting up at the sight of the big box.

“Oh man. So we’re both getting pretty sweet presents, huh?”

A self-satisfied smile stretched over Arthur’s lips. “Oh, definitely.” He knew Alfred would absolutely love the Maine Coon. “Would you like yours first since I’ve got it here already?”

“Sure.”Alfred was practically vibrating with excitement as he took a seat next to Arthur.

“Don’t shake it around, though. It’s delicate,” Arthur said as he handed the box over. His heart took off at a gallop as he watched Alfred examine it.

“Huh.” Alfred hefted it up a few times. “It’s lighter than it looks,” he mused, then froze when he heard a noise from inside. “Is that?” He whipped the lid off.

Hamlet meowed again and poked his head up, his front paws supporting his body against the edge of the box. He was still a bit ruffled as he looked around, and he started purring as his eyes landed on first Arthur, then Alfred right in front of him.

“Oh my God.” Alfred held out a hand for the cat to sniff, and he smiled when he felt the rough tongue against his fingers. “Oh my God. Oh my God, Arthur.” He suddenly whipped his head around to stare at Arthur.

“Wh-What?” Arthur bit his lip. “Do you like him?”

And Alfred burst out laughing.

Arthur stared at him in confusion. “What…?”

“No- No oh my God, Arthur, hang on.” Setting the box with Hamlet in it aside, Alfred rushed across the room to pick up the present he’d gotten for Arthur. He pushed it into Arthur’s hands, still chuckling. “Just open it.”

Arthur’s brows were still furrowed as he hesitantly lifted the top of that box off, and he nearly dropped it when he saw what was inside.

A small white and cream cat with green eyes and folded down ears stared up at him.

Unlike Hamlet, this cat was curled up on the bottom of its box, evidently more nervous than the other feline still peering around.

“Oh my God,” Arthur whispered.

Alfred laughed again, and this time, Arthur joined in. They fell against each other helplessly, because of course they would both get each other a cat for Christmas.

The cat in Arthur’s lap let out a mewl when its box was jostled, and Hamlet’s ears immediately pricked up. He jumped out of his box and peered into the other one, purring happily and forcing his way inside to curl up around and practically on top of the smaller cat.

“I guess…they’re friends?” Alfred managed to say, wiping a few tears from the corners of his eyes.

“I suppose so,” Arthur murmured, and smiled as he pressed a few kisses to Alfred’s cheek. “You silly thing.”

“Hey, you’re just as silly!”

“This just means we’re perfect for each other, hmm?”

“Aww! Arthur, that’s so sappy! I fucking love you, babe,” Alfred said as he wrapped an arm around Arthur’s shoulders.

“I love you too, Al,” Arthur whispered back. After a moment, while Alfred was still cooing and laughing over the cats, he pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of the two of them in the one box. He sent it to Gilbert.

Arthur: Alfred got me a cat too? (9:48)

It was only a few seconds before Gilbert replied.

Gilbert: i know (9:48)

Gilbert: [IMG attached]

A selfie of Gilbert on his couch, with Hamlet and the small cat curled up together on his lap.

Gilbert: you’re both fucking nerds (9:49)

Gilbert: merry Christmas (9:49)

“What’s so funny?” Alfred asked, looking over when he felt Arthur laughing against him.

Arthur showed him the phone screen.

“What? You asked Gilbert to hold onto yours too?” They dissolved into laughter again. “I guess that explains why they get along so well…”

“Indeed. The big boy is Hamlet, by the way.”

Alfred lifted him from the box, grunting from the effort. “No kidding. He’s such a ham.”

“He was named after Shakespeare, you dolt,” Arthur said, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, and Ham can be his nickname. Shakespeare reference for you, food reference for me.” Alfred grinned as he swung the cat above his head. Hamlet looked completely unbothered. “Who’s a hammy boy? Who’s a good hammy boy?” he cooed.

“Both of you.”

“Arthur!” Alfred lowered Hamlet to face level and turned him around so both he and Alfred stared at Arthur with near-identical blue eyes. “You wound us!”

“I’m sure you’ll both get over it,” Arthur said sweetly. “What’s this one’s name?” he asked, reaching in to offer his hand to the other cat. It had curled down in the box again now that it was alone. Arthur pulled it out to set it onto his lap instead, and set the box on the floor.

“He’s called Dover. No real reason for it, that’s the name he came with at the shelter. I didn’t see the need to change it.” Alfred let Hamlet down completely so the bigger cat could nuzzle to Dover’s face.

“Dover…” Arthur smiled as he lightly ran a hand down Dover’s back. “I like it. Hamlet and Dover. Thank you, Alfred. This has already turned into a perfect holiday.”

“I think you mean purrfect.”

“You nerd.”

“In all seriousness though, thank you too.” Alfred leaned over to wrap Arthur into as much of a side hug as he was able to. “We are both silly, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love you, Arthur. Merry Christmas.”

Arthur gripped him back tightly. “I love you too, my dearest,” he whispered into Alfred’s shoulder.

They lost track of time simply curled up on the couch together, the two cats purring away on their laps.

[levyfai]

A Kirkland Christmas

This is a Christmas gift for @Franxisss for the @usuknetwork 2018 Christmas exchange. I hope you like it. 

Summary: Arthur and his boyfriend Alfred are visiting his family for the Holidays. Yet this omega had hidden something from the family, he was 3 months pregnant. So Alfred needs to survive a family of overprotective alphas and omegas. 

Warnings: A little swearing and omegaverse with m-preg 

Arthur Kirkland was nervous, not only was he coming home with an alpha on his arm but he was about 3 months along. He had spoken to his mother about the alpha with him but didn’t mention about his pregnancy. So that’s why he had been biting his lip and looking out the window as his boyfriend drove to his family house.

               “Babe, you need to calm down, stress isn’t healthy for you or the baby.”

               “And meeting my family isn’t going to be healthy for you…”

               “Arthur, I love you and you know I will do anything for you.”

               “I don’t want you to die for me,” Arthur replied with a worried smile.

               “Then wish me luck because we're here.”

               Arthur felt relief as he saw the brick of the two-story house that was his home for most of his life. He was entranced with old memories until his boyfriend parked the car and help him get out of the car. He leaned into the younger alpha taking in his scent of apple pie and hay.

               “Arthur…”

               “You know we still can leave, I’ll just tell mum something came up…”

               “Arthur Igneous  Kirkland, you have told me all about your family and I finally get to meet them. As a hero, I can’t pass on a challenge.”

               “Alright but I warn you, my family is…”

               “Overprotective, don’t worry babe I can handle a few alphas…”

               “They aren’t the ones I’m worried about,” Arthur muttered as they went on the porch and rang the bell.

               It was answered by a blond-haired omega female who looked straight at Arthur and smiled.

               “Arthur.”

               “Mum.”

               Alfred watched as the two embraced and couldn’t help but compare the two. The older hair was white blond and taller, but he could see where Arthur got his smile and laughter.

               “Mum, I want you to meet Alfred….”

               “Hello Mrs. Kirkland, I’m Alfred F Jones….”

               “Ja, Arthur has told me about you…though he left out some parts on your relationship.”

               He started to laugh nervously as the older blond just gave him a glare and sighed.

               “Mum….”

               “I have no cause to blame you two but wait before you tell your papa.” She replied as she gently touched the baby bump.

               “Thank you, mum.”

               Bella kissed her son’s head and led the young couple into the house. Alfred could feel comfort in the house. It was decorated to from the floor to the walls, and he couldn’t help smiling when he heard childish laughter.

               “Arthur!” He watched as two 8-year-olds go over and hug his boyfriend.

               One was a red-headed beta girl and the other was a white hair alpha. He then felt a presence behind him and Bella’s voice introducing the two children.

               “Those are Meredith and Dylan my youngest set of twins.”

               “Set?” Alfred asked as two more figures came into the living room.

               These set of twins were both boys, one who had a mix of red and blond hair and blue eyes while the other was a pure redhead with dark green eyes. The two looked at him then while the lighter redhead went to hug Arthur the other came over to him.

               “You must be Arthur’s boyfriend.”

               “Yeah, and you…”

               “Scott Kirkland, I’m alpha in my 3rd year in Hetalia High. I’m the captain of the football team and boxing.”

               In other words, I mess with your brother you will get me. Alfred thought he knew he would do the same thing if his brother came home with another alpha. Alfred then looked over at Arthur who was now sitting down and talking to his three younger siblings.

               “The one with the mix of blond and red hair is named Bern, He’s Scott’s twin,” Bella explained.

               “Where is Mr. Kirkland.”

               “He’ll be here in a few minutes, he had to pick up my parents from the airport.”

               “Wait, you mean grandfather and Grandmum are going to be here?” Arthur asked his face getting a little pale.

               “Yes, the deiced that they wanted to visit us instead of us going there….”

               “Arthur are you okay.” Alfred went to his love’s side and squeezed his hand.

               Bella sighed and walked over to where the children were and quickly got them up and had them go and get things ready for their guests. She then sat down beside Arthur and opened her arms which he went in and relaxed.

               “Don’t worry my little lion, it will be fine.”

               “Mum….”

               “Besides they won’t allow mama to bring his rifle over here.”

               Alfred felt a chill down his spine and had a feeling that the omegas in Arthur’s family were the people who he should be worried about. then he felt a hand on his shoulder and Bella looked at him with a smile.

               “Arthur you rest, I would like to talk to your mate for a little while.”

               “Mum…”

               “Bern.”

               “Yes, mum?”

               “Take your big brother to his room and make sure he doesn’t stress.”

               “Yes mama, come on Arthur.”

               Arthur looked at Alfred, and the alpha just smiles and kissed him before letting the younger omega take him. He then felt the eyes of Arthur’s mother on him, he swallowed.

               “Come with me, I think you need some cocoa.”

               “Yeah….”

               He followed her into the kitchen and looked at the fridge to see pictures and school reports on it. He couldn’t help but think about having his own fridge covered with projects and pictures of the little one that Arthur was carrying.

               “How long have you known about the pregnancy?”

               “Arthur told me a few weeks into it.”

               Bella seemed to smile a little then handed him the cocoa.

               “I hid my pregnancy for 4 months before I told Alistair.”

               He almost spit out his drink, he had heard of omegas hiding their pregnancy, yet for 4 months. She would have to hide her scent from everyone and would have to change her clothing. He couldn’t help but worry if Arthur had hidden the pregnancy from him, he would have to be alone through many trials in having a baby.

               “Why?”

               “I just turned 18 and fell in love with a Scotsman who was an old friend of my papa. He was also a solider that was on leave. Both of us were drunk and my heat came to early. “

               “So, Arthur is…”

               “He is our eldest son, and I wouldn’t change a thing.”

               “But going at it alone….”

               “Which is why I’m asking you a question.”

               “I will make sure that Arthur will be taken care of, he’s carrying my child.”

               “Yes, but I wonder are doing this because you love him or because you feel a duty to make sure that the child my son carries wouldn’t be picked on.”

               “I…”

               “Because if it is the 2nd reason then you may leave now, I will not have my son have a loveless marriage or mating, I will not have the child being raised by an alpha who only thinks of the child as a duty instead of a child.”

               “Mrs. Kirkland, I love Arthur with all my heart. When I first met him, I felt my whole world turn upside down. I had to ask my friends on how to approach him. I still remember our first kiss, it was amazing then when his heat came…I realized I really wanted to be with him…I was going to ask for his hand…”

               “But now you wonder if we would take it the wrong way,” Bella replied.

               “Yes….”

               Bella started to laugh and looked at Alfred.

               “History does repeat itself.”

               “You mean?”                “Alistair asked me to marry him when he found out I was pregnant. My parents were mad when they found out.”

               “How mad?”

               “Well, I had to beg my mama to not sniper Alistair.”

               Alfred winced as he heard the door open again. Bella sighed and looked at him and touched his shoulder.

               “Find Arthur, he will need your support for this, I will talk to the three that just came in.”

               “Okay…”

               He quickly went upstairs and found Arthur in one of the bedrooms. He was surrounded by Bern and their two younger siblings. He was reading from an old storybook and the three were entranced his reading.  Alfred couldn’t help but think of Arthur reading to their own child and tucking the said child into bed. His dream was broken when he heard yelling in strange languages.

               “Papa and grandma and grandpa are here,” Dylan said wincing hearing the voices.

               “Why are they mad?” Meredith asked snuggling her big brother.

               “I’m afraid they are mad at me,” Arthur said gently patting her head.

               “Why?”

               “Because your brother is carrying my child,” Alfred said getting into the room.

               Arthur looked up at him as he went over to sit by his boyfriend. Meredith frowned but moved over to allow the older alpha to hold her brother. She watched them snuggled and felt herself being picked up.

               “Bern?”

               “Let’s leave them alone for a while, besides we need to help mama calm down papa and grandma and grandpa.”

               “Okay….” She replied as Dylan followed the two.

               Once they were alone Alfred pulled Arthur into his lap one hand on the omega’s shoulder the other on his belly doing small circles. Arthur sighed and laid his head on Alfred’s shoulder.

               “How was the talk with mum?”

               “Well, she did question my attention toward you.”

               “You mean if you are staying with me because of the baby or because you love me?” he replied.

               “Your mother loves you….”

               Arthur nodded and smiled.

               “She always worried about her children, and father too.”

               “She told me about her experience with your father and the…”

               “The way that she hid her pregnancy from him.”

               “Yeah….”

               “You know when I was old enough to understand how she felt. That she loved my father enough to hide because she wanted him to have a good life, and she loved me enough to keep and would raise me on her own.”

               “I understand that, but I want to be with you for all this…which is why I have a question for you…”

               “Alfred…” Arthur’s eyes went wide as Alfred put him down and knelt down in front of him.

               “Arthur Igneous Kirkland, will you do me the honor of being my life mate, and be the mother of our children and stay with me all our lives, will you marry me?”

               “Alfred…oh, Alfred…. My answer is….”

               “So, you’re the bloody bastard who took my son’s virginity.” Alfred swallowed as he caught the scent of an older protective alpha was behind him and turned to see an older version of Scott.

               “Father please….”

               “No, I won’t have the man who knocked up my son not pay for his actions, he will treat you like a queen and I will make sure he’ll support you even if have to….”

               “Alistair Scott Kirkland, ya still can read the mood.” Bella cut in and the alpha looked at her.

               “Belle, I’m trying….”

               “Look at where Alfred is Alistair…”

               The alpha looked at the scene again and then turned red as his hair. Bella took his shoulders and put him outside the door.

               “Sorry about that, I tried to stop him. Anyway, keep doing what ya were doing.”

               Once the two were gone, Arthur looked over to Alfred.

               “Are you sure that you want to marry into this family?”

               “As long as you’re in it, sure beside my family is partly crazy also, besides your dad just wanted to make sure you were okay….”

               “Yes, but they are very overprotective….”

               “Some of the best families are…. So?”

               “Yes, Alfred I will marry you.”

               The alpha smiled and brought his new soon to be mate into a kiss. They were lost into the kiss until they heard a click then a flash. Arthur blush and hid his face in Alfred’s chest as an omega with winter blond hair and lavender eyes looked at them both.

               “So cute, I hope the baby has Arthur’s looks though….”

               “Mama…”

               “Tino…”

               “What their cute together, besides I want to have more grandchildren.”

               “It will be your greatgrandchild….”

               “Still a grandchild.”

               Arthur sighed when the other people left the two in a quiet embrace. Arthur then looked at Alfred pleading and the alpha just smiles and kissed him again.

               “I’m just happy that our child will have a great family to help support them.”

               Arthur hummed and snuggled his mate, he was happy and could already think about next Christmas when his baby would be able to enjoy the warmth of his family and love of both his father and mother. He found himself closing his eyes to think about it and falling asleep. Soon after Alfred fell asleep also and they spent the rest of the night laying side by side.

               Fin

[ixiethepixiedraws]

My art entry for the @usuknetwork Christmas countdown! ^^ Hella fun to work on.

[ixiethepixiewrites]

The Yule Log

Rating: G

Warnings: I show off my Pagan traditions I guess lmao otherwise no warnings.

Summary: Arthur shows Alfred how he celebrates the holiday season.

A/N: My writing entry for the @usuknetwork Christmas countdown 2017. Based on personal practices, others may have different variations of how they celebrate Yule, this is just kinda a basic outline of common traditions mixed with my own.

Posting a link to AO3 because of tumblrs stupid 100 text box limit.

[hikikomori-kuma]

What You Did Last Summer

USUK Summer Getaway Day 5: Free Day

This is late again. This is the last one. Gosh. 

Arthur has always been grateful of his job. Why wouldn't he? Landing a job in one of the top companies was somewhat of a stepping stone for his career. It has a decent pay check. He has his weekends free and his colleagues are nice and cooperative.

The only down side to his lovely job was it could be stressful with deadlines and demanding bosses.

But Arthur's company always took great care to its employees. It's been in their mission not only to improve customers' life but also maintain a happy and productive employees, thus he's now reading a memo from the Human Resources announcing a company retreat.

Retreats. An event where the employees let loose of their pent-up stress on work and unresolved tension between co-workers and last year's retreat had been something Arthur wanted to forget. He did not want to go but he find himself dragging his suitcase to their hotel.

Francis' been telling him how grant their hotel was with a fancy glass of cocktail on his hand. He did not know if someone from the Human Resources hated him but assigning him to be roomed with Francis was something that something that is over the top. He couldn't even stand the other until he's completely smashed to which he avoid as of this trip.

Leather hoes clacked on the polished tiles and Arthur could already hear the squeals of female guests and see the turning heads of the males. Arthur sighed and wished for the front desk officer to be faster in her job but it seemed that even she has stopped to look at the newcomer.

"Hi." His purple-stricken blond hair was combed back by his hand as he leaned to the front  desk and look at Arthur. Francis giggled- bloody giggled as the other smirked at Arthur's way. The front desk officer still looking at the man. Bloody hell.

"Good morning, Mr. Jones." He tried smiling politely as the other swiftly gave his information and the bloody front desk officer hurriedly did what Jones told her. What the hell happened to his room key? He scoffed as another officer assisted him.

"Call, me Alfred. We're on a vacation." He gave an identification and Arthur grabbed his keys.

"You know Arthur, we should be sharing a room." He grabbed his keys while the lady behind the desk lingered on looking at him. Arthur looked at him.

"I won't call this a vacation, sir. With your presence, I find it hard to convince myself to even relax." He grabbed at his bag. "And as much as I hate this French bastard here," He pointed to Francis who mockingly looked shock. "I don't want to trade room with anyone." He started to move while Francis talked on how room he'd been to him and their boss.

Why was he even here?

There were called by the HRD to have some team building activity. While everyone's been showing off their skin, Francis included, Arthur stayed on putting a decent length of beach shorts and a t-shirt. It's the times like this that people would like to show off things but Arthur wanted to stay modest as much as possible.

The first game was tag of war. It was a competition between departments. Arthur was not the strongest in his department but he was  pushed to be one of the participating contestants. He readied himself, positioning at the very back to avoid being crushed by the bigger guys on his department when he felt that someone tugged the rope behind him. How he wished that he did not look to see who it was because all he saw was Alfred bloody Jones Jr. smirking at him.

"You're not from my department." He frowned, looking unimpressed with this brat.

"She said I can join and I chose to be on your team." He looked at the manager who smiled at him then back to Arthur. "Besides, I'm pretty strong. See?" He flexed his arm. Oh yes, Arthur could see that tones chest and abs but that doesn't mean he have to tell that to Alfred.

He looked away, afraid that he might not take his eyes off to the other and mumbled, "Just make sure to make this team win." Alfred laughed, he leaned forward and whispered to Arthur. "Anything for you, sweetheart."

Arthur was sure that goosebumps ran into his skin and that his ears are now red but he thanked Michelle from shouting the start of game. Adrenaline rushed through both teams as they tugged with all they can. Arthur can feel his hands slipping on the rope and it starts to burn. His hands slipped but a pair of strong arm got over his part of rope and tugged. To his shock, he looked back and saw Alfred. His face determined to win and sweat beading down his charming face. Oh god! Did he just call this brat charming? He snapped out of it and started to tug even in the awkward position of basically being enveloped to Alfred's arms. A few more tugs and he felt to other side let go and the force must have been heavy on their side that he found himself tumbling back but even before he fell, Alfred hold him on his shoulders and steadied him.

"Oh- there." He whispered as Arthur tried to get away from his touch. It felt like his skin was burning from the inside. Alfred smiled at him as he muttered a small 'thank you' while his teammates cheered for their victory. After that, Arthur excused himself with being exhausted even though he's not. It's better to be teased from being weak than to be teased by a Baby Brat Jones.

They came back to the hotel by lunch time and everyone was famished enough to somewhat forget their manners and gobble up everything they saw on the buffet table. He sat with Kiku, a quiet Japanese man from the Engineering department. They exchanged small talks while the other tables chat up excitedly on what they will do on their spare time. Francis even suggested hitting the nearby bar for a few drinks. Oh dear.

He's busy thinking of how to turn down Francis' offer when a plate full of food was placed on their table. Both Kiku and Arthur was startled when they saw Alfred sat in between them. "Hi Kiku!" The Japanese man greeted the other politely and then he turned to Arthur. "Hey, Artie!" He smirked as the other greeted his teeth.

"It's Arthur, sir." He poked at his salad. The other just laughed. "I'll call you by your name if you call me by my name!" He beamed as Kiku quietly watched them.

"I refuse." He said, not looking at the other and just observing the towering plate of Alfred.

"Then, I'll just have to call you 'Artie'!" He choked and looked at the other to which other hysterically laughed before turning to Kiku who looked flustered. What the hell?

He tried not to talk while eating to avoid any banter exchange with Alfred but that did not stop Alfred the latter from teasing him. He had never been eaten his salad faster in his entire life.

That night, at the hotel room. Francis has been telling him about going to the bar and asking Arthur to join him.

"I don't want to go." He said, not looking at his laptop.

"Why?" He whined as he looked at the mirror and fixed his hair.

"I just don't want to." He emphasized.

"I guess I need to start telling everyone tonight that last year, you were so wasted that you-" His face was hit by a pillow.

"Don't you dare!" He hissed as he closed his laptop.

"Then, come." Francis' knew he already won.

"I swear, I'll cut your tongue if you tell anyone!" He looked at his suitcase for something appropriate to wear. "I'll be watching you!" He warned.

He purposely left his wallet to avoid but that did not stop Francis from buying him a drink. Now, he's at the local bar, cradling his first and only drink tonight. One drink won't hurt, right? Francis had been on the dance floor for a long time now. The flashing lights hurt Arthur's eyes and he could not find the frog. He decided to be the somber and responsible one to carry Francis' ass back to their hotel room.

He slowly sip at his drink when he felt someone sat beside him on the bar.

"I didn't expect to see you here~" He voice a bit hushed and he carry a glass with him. Arthur examined his clothing. He's used to the black leather rebel he always saw at the office but now, he wore tight shirt and a well-fitted pair of jeans. And he carry it so well, not that Arthur would admit that.

"Neither did I." He asked sarcastically.

"Your drink's almost empty. Let me buy you another, Artie!" Damn with that nickname again.

"Only if you stop calling me that!" He said, turning around. Alfred went to ask the bartender for another of Arthur's drink but he swore he heard his name being whispered to him. A delightful shiver ran on his spine as the other pulled away and sat again.

The drink arrived and the song changed to some blasted pop song Arthur dare not know the title.

"Let's dance!" Alfred gulped his drink in one go as much to Arthur's horror,

"No. No! Alfred, no!" He backed up from his seat as the other tugged at him to stand.

"Come on! I'm your boss and this is my favorite song!" He went near Arthur.

"That doesn't even make sense!" He whispered as the other came near. Arthur felt his cheeks aflame as the other came near his ears.

"I knew what you did last summer, Arthur. I can only imagine how you danced at last year's retreat. It's a shame that I'm not there to personally enjoy your show." The git even had the nerve to smirk. His cheeks felt very hot not and that's not because of the booze. Guess who's gonna be a murdered frog later tonight.

Alfred pulled away. "Come on, dance with me and it'll be our little secret.  he felt conflicted but he knew this man can woo anyone and everything he said will be believed by the others. He'll regret it for sure but he stood up and led Alfred amidst the sweating bodies of the dance floor.

After that night, both Francis and Arthur woke up into an unfamiliar room but the only problem was how would Arthur manage to come out of his boss' room.

--

A/N: Arthur got wasted at last year's retreat when he and Francis went to bar hop. He ended up dancing at the stage because of Francis' dare and not just any dance, sexy dance! And even wasted, Francis managed to remember that and used that to blackmail the other /hohoho/ Alfred somewhat knew it because Francis might have spat it by accident, but it came in handy, right?

[coralcatsea]

@usuknetwork

Fiendfest

Vampire Arthur x Werewolf Alfred

[hwsforeignrelations]

A closer look at my piece for @usuknetwork’s recent USUSKTwicwPerYear event

[charlotte--kensington]

Valentine's Day fics, part 3! @usuknetwork

In which Arthur Kirkland learns that with enough to annoy him, Francis Bonnefoy can and will solve his love problems.

Or

After pining for Alfred for just under a year, Arthur gets a little support from his friends, just so he'll finally shut up about Alfred.

---

7.9K, rated T because Gil just couldn't keep his mouth shut

Additional Tags: Love Confessions, Love Letters, Secret Admirer, Fluff, Mutual Pining

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Written for the Valentine's and White Day event of the USUKUS Network on discord, filling the prompts of Love Letters and Secret Admirer.

[tsoko-late]

Lmao this is my exchange gift for the Valentines Day event on the @usuknetwork discord XDD

Get yourself a wingman like Phil who won’t stop you from buying almost everything in a Robinsons Mall

[diurnaldaysart]

My piece for the usuknetwork 12 Days of Christmas event, December 18: Candy Canes and Gingerbread Houses

[levyfai]

This my piece for the usuk2per year collection 

[ixiethepixiedraws]

UsUk Summer Getaway!!! Day 1: Beach Poor Al doesn’t even see it coming. @usuknetwork