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Tea.

You never cared much for it. It wasn’t your least favorite beverage, that spot belonged to the disgusting diet shakes your mother kept drinking and always begged you to try. Those were the worst by far!

That being said, tea still wasn’t that high on your list. You’d tried it before, and tried it again, but it just didn’t do anything for you.

No problem, you told yourself, Nobody says I have to drink it, right? And for a good portion of your life, that was true. No one would force you to drink if you didn’t want it, and most people didn’t really offer it to you anyway.

And then you made the error of falling for Arthur Kirkland.

Acquaintances for a long time before becoming friends, you started to pursue things once you realized you found yourself attracted to Brit. You didn’t think he suspected anything yet, which was fine. It gave you more time to – for lack of a better word – analyze him. See what he’s about. See if there would be any snags in a possible relationship.

You also didn’t feel like he totally trusted you yet. He always seemed the same to you; a polite, sophisticated gentleman. And while that was nice and all, you seriously doubted that was all there was to him. Or to anyone really. No one is polite and kind all the time.


But I digress. Another thing you noticed about him was his love of tea. You’d swear it was water to him. It was all you saw the man drink! While this wasn’t exactly something you’d agree about, you didn’t see it as causing a problem between the two of you.

And then he had to go and invite you for tea.

Now, you could’ve very easily said no. Avoided the whole situation and not had to have drank tea. But again, it wasn’t that big of a deal to you. You didn’t hate the stuff, and you liked Arthur. You figured there was nothing wrong with sucking it up just this once… and possibly future times if this happened again. Maybe in a more romantic setting.

He welcomed you with a bright smile, inviting you in, taking your coat, even pulling your seat out for you. Like a true gentleman… you swooned in your head before putting a grain of salt into the mix.

You gave him a strained but convincing smile as he poured you a cup, then poured himself a cup and sat down.

“I’m glad you could come today, ___________.”

Your smile became a little less phony. “Me too.”

He took a sip of his tea and a big ol’ smile formed on his face. Clearly he was very proud of his work. “I may not be the best cook, but at least I can do this right.” He said, letting out a nervous chuckle.

“Heh, really?” You said. He looked at you, obviously waiting for you to take a sip. You picked up your cup, trying to look as classy as possible, and took a sip.

This tea… actually wasn’t too bad. You were pleasantly surprised. Still it was tea…

“It’s good!” You told him. And you meant it. It was good as far as tea goes. You put your cup down.

“I’m glad to hear it!” he chirped, much happier than you expected him to be. It kind of gave you butterflies. You took another quick sip.

“Hey, Arthur…” You started

“Yes, love?”

Cue mental squeal. Cue coming back to reality. “Well, I’ve noticed you’re always drinking tea. Do you ever fancy something like… I don’t know, coffee?”

Arthur stopped dead in his tracks.

“Coffee? Coffee? What do you think I am, fucking French?! You'll probably ask me if I want a croissant in a minute, yeah?! Tea's all I want here, just tea.”

You stared at Arthur wide-eyed as could be, totally unprepared for such a response.


“I… I’m terribly sorry, ________.” He started, before he heard you giggling at him.


“Boy, I didn’t think you were always a gentleman, but I didn’t expect you to flip out over coffee!”


He blushed a bright red and looked down. “I’m sorry…” he repeated.

“Don’t be!” you assured him, “You don’t always have to be on your best behavior around me, you know.  In fact, I kind of like you better now.”

Still just as red, he looked up and made eye contact with you.

“Really?”

“Yep!”

He smiled, and with that you took another, longer sip of the tea.

For some reason, it tasted a lot better now.
If you know where Arthur's freak out is from, you are a billion times more awesome than Prussia.

So this is kind of pointless, and kind of a silly idea, but I heard this quote after playing the game again, and let me tell you

Me hearing that before Hetalia: O.o Okay then...

Me after Hetalia: XDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD THAT'S HILARIOUS

I don't know if the French are particularly fond of coffee or not, I just wanted to use it because it's so much funnier to me now.

Despite the pointlessness and Arthur's bipolar tendencies, I must say this came out much better than I thought it would. Which is great; that doesn't happen to me often. It may not be great, but it's better than I expected.

So... I hope you like it!

Now to work on that lemon y'all voted for
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CountryxReader: Connected
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You sighed for the ‘nth time’ ever since the sun set down; you looked at your silver wristwatch to check the time, you frowned when you realized how late it is already. You have to finish the report before the morning or else your British boss might cut your salary. You rested your chin at your palm as you stared at the monitor-checking the financial report that you will explain the next week. Your eyes traveled from the expenses to the income. Everything’s just fine, good thing you’re using excel since your high school days, now you’re a professional when it comes to rushing paperwork and finishing it nicely.

You spaced out for a moment, realizing that you already finished everything, including the graph. It’s already 1am and it’s pretty dangerous to go home alone, especially crime is everywhere in this busy city. You finished 4 cups of espresso and now you can’t sleep, you even ate an apple-worrying that you might sleep without noticing it! But you finished your work early, and you’re alone in your own office. Why don’t you leave work for a while?

You arranged the papers beside your desk and placed them to their assigned folders. After you finished cleaning up you opened your browser at you computer searching about random things. Actually, it’s not allowed during work, but why don’t they give you a little treat for finishing your work earlier? You tried watching movies online but you thought that you can do that at home. You’re too lazy to research about something ‘educational’ since you want to do something for fun. You just scrolled down and noticed an advertisement at the bottom.

’Online Dating?’

Now that sounds fun. You roamed your eyes around the room, checking if there’s a possibility that someone will enter the room. When you decided that it’s ‘safe’, you clicked the site, popping out a new tab wherein you should fill some data. This site is quite different; you’re allowed to create your own avatar in a 3d version. You made it quite realistic, yet a bit far from your appearance. Just when you finished creating your virtual self, you gave it a nickname.

“<username> sounds good…” You mumbled to yourself.

You got hooked because of the wonderful graphics of ‘Hetalove’. It has a virtual city which is much better from the city you are currently staying at. You let your virtual self take a stroll for a while; stopping by malls, and applying to different jobs to gain ‘charm’ and ‘experience points’. You took a stroll at the park and noticed a lot of dialogue boxes popping out. Now you realized that’s how they talk with each other. You got annoyed because of the random popping dialogue boxes. Your avatar just roamed around the park until you found a spot where there are no other virtual characters. You let <username> to sit at a bench. But then you noticed a dialogue box popped out.

‘GreenPirate: Hello there.’

You dragged your mouse above the virtual character; he has navy blue hair in a messy style, he’s wearing a pirate costume, how amusing. You checked his details by clicking his username; he’s quite mysterious, yet intriguing. You found out in the details that he’s from the same state, and he’s 25 years old-pretty young.

‘<username>: Hello, it’s pretty late, isn’t it?

‘GreenPirate: I see, you’re from the same state. I decided to take a break for a while. What about you? A lady mustn’t stay this late.’
You giggled at the choice of his words, it seems like he’s trying to act like a gentleman, pretty far from his character, but you decided to play along.

‘<username>: How sweet for this man to be concerned at a total stranger! I’m just taking a break, as well, Captain.’

‘GreenPirate: It would be such a waste if I won’t be able to ask you out for a tea, right now, milady.’

His virtual character bowed at you in a formal way.

‘<username>: And I would let such an opportunity slip from my grasp if I’d say no.’

Yours bowed down as well. You felt your face blush as you see the pirate placed a kiss at
<username>’s hand.

‘GreenPirate: Now shall I accompany you to my place, my princess?’

‘<username>: It would be an honor, Captain.’

You saw the two characters walked to a virtual house. The way he served you tea is pretty cute. This game isn’t bad at all. You felt your heart skip a beat every time he tells you sweet things-those deep English words he’s using is truly romantic.

‘GreenPirate: I guess the sun is rising now, love. I wouldn’t want you to be tired all day because of me.’

‘<username>: You should rest, too, Captain.’

‘GreenPirate: I am looking forward to meeting you again, if it’s alright, my Princess? ’
You felt your lips curve into a soft smile as you type your response.

‘<username>: It’s a pleasure, my Captain. I’ll come back once the clock strikes nine after the sun sets down.’

‘GreenPirate: I’ll be waiting, my love.’

‘<username>: I shall be leaving, then.’
You are about to log out but then you saw another dialogue box pop out.

‘GreenPirate: Wait, princess!’

‘<username>: What is it, captain?’

You gasped as you saw his character placed a kiss at your virtual self’s lips. Even if it’s not real, you can feel the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You entered a command so your character can kiss back. After a few seconds both of them pulled away.

‘GreenPirate: I’m sorry for my rudeness, milady. It’s just that I think I…’
His character bowed and then turned around so his back is facing the screen. You typed another command so you can hug him from behind.

‘<username>: I think I like you, too, Captain. Now we should meet again here, the promise is sealed with a kiss!’

‘GreenPirate: I’ll look forward to that meeting, love.’

You giggled as you typed those words. You dragged your mouse to click the log out button. You suddenly felt that you’re a teenager again. But right now, you have to face reality that finding love is not that easy. You can say that you’re attracted with that stranger, but what if he’s not real? You snapped out of your thoughts and stretched a bit. You still have 2 hours to sleep, anyway. You rested your head at your arms and drifted off to sleep.

“Ms. (Last Name)!” You heard the stern voice of your boss. He’s grumpy as always. You looked up, your (e/c) eyes meeting his green orbs. “Bloody Heavens. I’ve been waking you up since five minutes ago! Have you finished the Financial Report?”

“Yes, captain.” You said, while rubbing your eyes lazily. You can see his eyes widened at your statement.

“Captain?” He raised an eyebrow at you. You just realized what you said and slapped a hand to your mouth.

“I-I mean ‘sir’.” You snapped. “Yes, sir, I’ve finished the Financial Report, including the graphs and the copies for the guests.” You said all of those in one sentence. Your heart is still throbbing because of your sudden outburst. You still haven’t got over what happened last night, even though it’s just a virtual game… Even though he’s a total stranger.

“G-good then.” He said. The sunrays must’ve hit his face lately because you can see something pink tinting his white skin. He immediately grabbed a copy and opened it to check the company’s status. “Precise computations and indicated explanations, as expected from you, (Name).” He said.

“Thank you, sir. I’ll do my best next week.” You said before he left the room. You sat on your chair. Finishing your latest paperwork; you just can’t wait to go home and open your laptop.

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12 hours of continuous typing, an hour ride to go home and a few minutes to log in. That’s how your everyday life turned out to be ever since you found that game, or should I say, ever since you met him. He’s been treating you like a real princess, he can be busy sometimes but he’ll never let a day slip without sending you a message. You feel very lucky since you can balance your career and your ‘virtual’ love life, and this day is no exception.

12 hours of work, nonstop. You are now at the main door of the building you’re working at. You’re currently stuck in your position. It’s raining and you don’t have an umbrella, you don’t have a car and there are no cabs passing by the streets because of the traffic at the main road. You pouted your lips because of your frustration. There is someone waiting for you-that’s what you’re thinking. Even though you have brought your laptop with you, you still can’t open that unless it’s connected to your job. You tapped your feet impatiently, silently praying for a miracle. A blinding light hit your eyes as the tapping sounds of rain got louder as they hit the metal surface of the silver Porsche.

You heard a loud beeping noise from the car. A blonde haired man standing 5’9 tall went out of the car holding a green umbrella. He’s on his usual black slacks and long sleeves which hid his slim figure. He went closer to you, and there you stood, frozen. Is he gonna scold you? Have you done something wrong? You thought of the possible things that he might say.

“Y-you need a ride home?” He blurted out, turning his head to the side. He used simple words yet it’s hard to comprehend for you. Your grumpy boss is now being soft and actually giving you a ride home?

“If it’s alright, sir.” You finally answered.

“Then get over here or else you’ll get soaked.” He said, shielding you from the raindrops with his green umbrella. You went closer to him as he guided you down the front stairs; you felt your heart throbbed as he held your hand, guiding you so you won’t slip. He led you to the passenger’s seat. He also made his way to the driver’s seat. You told him your address as he drove along the highway. Both of you sat there in awkward silence until you noticed a police tap at your side of the window. Mr. Kirkland rolled the window down using his automatic switch.

“What’s the problem officer?” He asked.

“Sorry to interrupt, but this road is currently closed” The officer responded. You widened your eyes at the statement, claiming that this is the only way to get to your house. “You can turn this way to go back. Thank you for your cooperation, sir.” With that, the officer waved goodbye.

“I’ll just stay at a hotel.” You said in a low voice, clutching your laptop tightly.

“Hotels are probably full now.” Mr Kirkland said,  ”Just stay at my place” He said as he drove to the other way. You felt your face blush at his statement.”I-It’s not like I have some intentions, don’t you get the wrong idea, okay?” You giggled, this is the first time you see this side of him.

“You’re such a gentleman, Mr. Kirkland, thank you very much.” You said, giving him a smile. Although you still feel awkward about the idea of staying at your boss’ place.

“J-Just call me Arthur.” He said without looking at you. “It’s awkward, besides, we’re not at the office, anyway.”

“Arthur…” You repeated, somehow you like the feeling of rolling his name on your tongue. It feels right. After a few minutes of driving, you finally reached his house. It’s huge but fit for a family of five. He led you inside the house. Not after a few steps, a child with a blonde hair and blue eyes ran towards Arthur, crying. He’s around four years old and he’s wearing a white pajama.

“Big Bwother Awthuw!” He cried, clutching at Arthur who bent down to welcome him.”T-T-The thundewstowms aw-hic-scwawy.” He said as Arthur sighed and lifted him up. “I’ve been a good boy, but they’we scwawing me.”

“Shh… Everything will be just fine, Alfred.” He said while rubbing circles at the child’s back. He walked to the living room as I followed him.  He set down Alfred to the couch beside me. He’s adorable! He’s sucking his thumb, but still not letting go of Arthur’s shirt.”Now be a good boy and stay here, okay?” He just nodded before Arthur left. You caught him staring at you with those big blue eyes.

“Can I come clowsew?” He said while sniffling. The rain is just getting worse.

“Of course, dear.” You said as you opened my arms to welcome him. He crawled closer to you and sat on your lap as you wrap my arms around him.

“The rain will go away?” he asked.

“Of course. If you want we can sing a song to make it go away!” you said, trying to calm him down. Both of you sang the famous nursery rhyme until you saw Arthur with a tray of tea and slice of cake on his hands.

“Awthuw, sing with us!” Alfred said.

“That’s right, Arthur, sing with us!”You said -totally forgetting the fact that he’s your boss. He placed the tray at the table and chuckled.

“Well, if you want to. I’ll just get something, okay?”
He went back with a guitar as he sat on the floor in front of you and Alfred. He placed the neck at his left hand and his fingers at the fret as his right hand plucks a certain melody. Right now you’re seeing a whole new Arthur Kirkland. Not the busy manager. Not the grumpy boss. Not the demanding Mr. Kirkland. It’s just… Arthur. You hummed slightly as his hands played the melody, putting you in an unfamiliar trance. He opened his mouth to let out the lyrics of the song, not a single note is out of place. His voice is deep, yet calming and soothing. It made your heart beat louder and your eyes softer as you looked at him right now.

Why hadn’t I seen this earlier?

After a few minutes of singing-little Alfred fell asleep on your lap. Arthur carried him to his bedroom and went back to accompany you.

“Sorry about my brother.” He said.

“It’s fine” You grinned at him.

“Would you like to have some tea?”

“I would let such an opportunity slip from my grasp if I’d say no, Arthur.” You saw him pause a little, and then continued on pouring tea. He handled you one and you both took a sip of the relaxing Earl Grey Tea. You talked about things you hadn’t talked about before. This time it’s not about job, this time it’s about him. He asked you about many things, this time it’s not about financial reports, this time it’s about you. His green orbs locked with yours as you speak. Why hadn’t you noticed how beautiful they are before?

“(Name), choose a room upstairs, I’ll check you after I clean this, okay?” You nodded as you walked upstairs. You found a plain looking door and decided that you’ll stay there. You opened the door to be welcomed by a sight of an airconditioned room with a king-sized bed and two closets. There is an opened laptop at the top of the desk. Your eyes widened as you saw the familiar graphics. You walked closer to the laptop and gasped.

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The door swung open; Arthur entered the room and turned the lights on. He stood there, frozen, when he saw (Name) in front of his laptop with her right hand covering her mouth. She’s staring at the computer intensely. She removed her hand and opened her mouth to speak.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Captain.” She turned around with a smile on her face. Arthur just stood there. At first he doesn’t know what to do, but then he realized that being himself won’t harm.

“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting, Milady.” He walked closer to (Name), holding her right hand as he leaned down to place a chaste kiss on top. (Name) let out a soft smile.

’So this is how it feels to be loved by a gentleman.’

“I’ve always wanted to see you. I always wondered how you look like and what would it feel to have you in my arms.” Arthur said, walking closer to her.

“Arthur, just shut up and kiss me now.” (Name) demanded. The both laughed but then Arthur pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Don’t mind if I do, my princess, I mean, (Name)” He closed the gap between you and kissed you with eager and passion.

You learned a lot about him this day.

This man is a rockstar on a businessman’s suit.
He can be more romantic than a Frenchman despite his gentleman demeanor.
He can be ‘motherly’ while taking care of his brother

and lastly…


He brought your bodies closer to each other; you tangled your fingers at his blonde locks. He is kissing you like there’s no tomorrow. But then you pulled away when your leg hit a box, opening it accidentally, you saw a bunch of … eroge?

“Arthur, do you hang out with Mr. Honda, often?” You raised an eyebrow as he just kissed your lips, again.

And again…

And again…


Yes. And lastly, he’s not a pure gentleman at all.
Okay, I decided that I'll make a fluff for the contest held by :iconlulzawesomecakes:, not lemon, not two parts just you and iggy on a love story :)))

Please leave a comment! :D It would be very appreciated.

Story by: :icontomatomatomato12:
:iconyayenglandplz: is owned by :iconhimaruyaplz:
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For those who read this, you can also read 'Perfect Fitting' which is connected with this story. Thank you very much^^ All those feedback and views made me happy!
[link] <Link to Perfect Fitting
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Somehow, and although the young beggar never quite understood how it could have come to be, it was effortless to recall the events in which she had come to be acquainted with a figure of such untainted, valued status and blood. Yet perhaps it was not all entirely an inconceivable matter, as the delicate happenings of grace were often difficult to lose mind of, nor was it something she wanted to pretend never existed in the first place, and thus throw away whatever lingering worth there remained.

There was little to be said of mercy in the gutters, generally. There were not many possible words to accurately describe what horrors were witnessed, and what cruelty was so often delivered to her and those alike unfortunates who had no choice in the matter of the ways they would live, and the ways they would die.

It was a droning, painful existence.

He, on the other hand, always flawlessly looked the part of the clearly wealthy gentleman, his clothing fine and his face shaved clean. For the reasoning of his appearance alone (or so it seemed, at least in those short few months) she always chose to wait for him at the more often than not repulsive, clustered street corner of his home every morning, lying in the gutter, caring not for the rain or the snow or the soot and living amongst the filth for months – although, even so, he did little more than glance at her wretched person; little payment for her time.

She was persistent, although. She’d been raised into a mulish, stubborn nature, after all; it was integrated firmly into her conscience, as strongly as her instinct to breathe and to walk, although sometimes she thought that she did little of either.

Waiting and watching on the street was all she saw fit to do and all that she was familiar with, being far too afraid (against her own inward lies) after one of her sisters had been clumsily killed at Whitechapel after one lonely, drunken night, and another had lost a finger due to blunt machinery years previous. She didn’t want to follow in her long dead sisters' footsteps of ruin, instead choosing the grim pastime of sleeping on the corners of backstreets and spending hours in the rain with her body pressed to the same road she shared with the rats, watching while thick filth - gathered from the roads - was swept past her in its steady, constant path to the dark and churning waters of the Thames.

That one blind, ignorant aristocrat was always the one she’d wait for, however, it being that she was desperately enslaved to private dreams of his possible weakness and perhaps eventual willingness to spare her a shilling. There was, perhaps, a slim chance that somewhere in his heart he recognised her, wretched creature that she was. She could never dare herself to expect or seek sympathy from anyone else, nor did she bother trying to make herself more pitiable by slashing her clothes and her limbs. She had mind enough to know that that would only hasten the imminent death that already lingered in her head, waiting for her to crumble and die.

But he never once granted her the kindness and decency of paid notice, no matter of what other circumstances remained. He instead always seemed so prideful, wholly preoccupied in his own petty worries and fears. Little did he care for the dogs and rats and smoke, and the matters that existed beyond his own homely familiarity. Little did he care for her, and for the rest of the wretched that lay on the long road.

Did he even have proper reason to give her a passing glance, an apathetic roll of the eyes, all for the sake of her knowing he’d actually acknowledged her existence?

Perhaps not - after all, he would not dare to entertain any thought or action that could hint otherwise for fear of being seen as one of them - some sort of weak fellow with hardly the mind and thick skin to resist the cries of the dying. Nor did he care. It was not his duty to care; he always assured himself of that.

To him, this beggar of the streets was scum – nothing more and nothing less than that; undeserving of attention, undeserving of kindness, undeserving of love. Her worth was less than the clothes on his back.

The miserable girl had a heart, though, somewhere deep within her chest: a heart that contained the peculiar sort of hope that often seemed unbreakable, but ultimately came for nothing, repeating itself through time without the slip of error.

Undoubtedly, it was that hope in the improbable that kept her optimistic when he first passed her by.

It was that morning that she’d seen his eyes for the first time, so usually hidden beneath the broad brim of a tall, fine hat when she saw him from a short distance away. He simply must not have cared that day, busied by something else she wouldn’t have understood in the slightest. But no less, very rarely did she see hatless gentlemen.

Yet, his glance hadn’t been sympathetic, no. It had been no more than the sort of look from the corner of the eye that is realisation of apathy, lifting the thick veil of ignorance.

Even so, she had mumbled incoherently as he had passed her by, reaching upwards with frail arms and watching him with sunken eyes that stared from the depths of a dark, haggard mask of a face.

He did little more than simply walk right past her in the months afterward. There were the occasional mornings when he would round the same corner, staring at her for perhaps longer than a second and blinking in surprise at her continual, unwavering faith in nonexistent kindness. She would always try to smile at him when he idly looked her over, although, trying to be friendly for what worth there was in it - but again, he would only stride past, occasionally kicking the snow from his path as he did so; blissfully unaware that he had drenched her skin in the melting ice.

Perhaps only a week after that there came a very strange day when he passed by on one of his usual strolled routes, only to actually stop as he did so, and turn his head to stare at the thin girl on the road. His eyes were narrowed, brow furrowed, his fine, gloved hands clenched against the lapels of his coat. Every part of his stance, whether he realised it or not, was more than enough for the young beggar to see very simply for herself how very little he cared, and how very little he knew.

“You never leave, do you?”

His voice was irritable, despite the fact that the words were mostly masked with the strong sort of lilt that told her he was from the deeper parts of the city and could nearly be called indistinguishable. It was like something she'd only ever heard whispered in the side alleys and beneath gas lamps, and not even close to the hoarse and gravelly tones she heard so constantly around her in the blackness. 

For a time after the words were spoken she didn’t respond, all for the pure surprise of having been spoken to by someone of such a higher status. It made her think vaguely of what one of the boys of the street had told her once about school, where one could be caned and ordered around by a man who was not their father. He had told her of authority and of the dreadful feeling that came with it, and why it had been what had made him run away.

But the idea of her, a girl, being spoken to at all by this man of such a high class was absurd. The thought that he was standing there on the road, staring at her, was almost too much to contemplate. Yet, perhaps it was unsurprising that she had no clue how to respond without earning herself a cuff over the side of the head.

So preoccupied was she with her idle wonderings that she did not even notice at first when he slipped a hand into his coat pocket, and tossed a coin into the snow.

She dug through the ice quickly to retrieve it as soon as the silver flashed across her line of vision, and before any of the other children noticed it. Yet, before she could safely close her fingers over it the slippery circle of metal escaped the frigid tips of her fingers, glancing off the edge of one paving stone and very nearly falling down into the slick, filthy gutter. She scrambled for it, not an eye blinked in relation to disgust at the grime coating her hands, too preoccupied with the sheer misery of coming so close to bread she wouldn’t have to share with the others. Perhaps she could go down to the riverside where she wouldn't be found, and for once in her life eat alone-

Yet what she didn’t pay notice was the weak, barely noticeable smirk that had crept over the young gentleman's shaded face while she had struggled with the coin, his smile only broadening when the coin neared the drain and was a second away from disappearing from sight.

He did a very strange thing at that moment, however, walking over to where the coin lay and trapping it beneath his foot a sheer moment before it would have escaped from view. Reaching downwards he retrieved it, holding the pale thing between his long fingers before throwing it into the middle of the road with an eased flick of the wrist, tossing the piece to where it could be clearly distinguished in the darkness for anyone to notice and take it for themselves.

“If you want it, you’re going to have to fight for it, eh? I’m not going to make things easy for you.”

His words had been accompanied by another of his strange, careless smiles, before he had disappeared again up at the bend in the road.

Only once he had gone had she dared to get to her feet, turning to see where the coin had fallen and slowly stumbling her way toward it. She had been only centimetres from reaching it when she had felt the paving stones tremble and had heard the steady rhythm of horses' hooves. 

If she had attempted to throw herself out of the way any later, she would have been certainly killed.

Panting heavily, she had watched as the coin had rolled away and disappeared into the sewer drain on the other side of the narrow street, her eyes dim and clouded, her dreams snuffed out as easily as one dampens the light of a tallow candle, and the flame flickers and dies. 

---

During the winter afterwards she saw very little of her supposed philanthropist. She may well have paused for a single moment to wonder why that was the case, if not for her own, overruling concern for simply staying warm and keeping her blood flowing red. By word of the street she had heard tales of people freezing and starving to death in both the day and the night; those were people of the street, people like her. The mysteriously ordinary idea of falling asleep and never waking was terrifying, and she was endlessly haunted by fear of it.

He obviously didn’t realise, nor care that she was freezing out in the road, naturally, being much too busied with keeping his fire burning through the evening and warming his tea to satisfaction. She thought nothing of it at the time, keeping her place on the road, waiting there in hope that he might by some chance notice her in the evening. Yet, all hope of that died vainly when night after night she fell asleep very late, lying in thin slumber, her instinct leaving her ready to awake again at any given moment to try and regain some warmth to survive another cruel morning of dull sky and the barrage of cold, blank stares from people who would never understand.

Imminently it came to be that it was late at night, and from the cold itself that she was awoken again to blackness and the repetitive sounds of heaving coughs and shuffling, as well as faint laughter from the alleys - all of it being familiar enough that it had settled into melody. Yet, she was easily and quickly taken from the peace of normality by her shivering. So violently did she tremble in the darkness as she lay there, clutching her bony knees to her chest, that she felt that she could simply die there and then on the road to rid herself of the ever present cold once and for all, and finally put an end to her own struggle. What did it matter, anyhow, if someone were to find a body on the roads in the morning, black and blue, broken by the chills of January?

Who would care?

Who would know or stop to think amongst their own small world of idle talk, and quaint observances of weather or the lack of sugar on their table?

With only that single, haunting thought in mind, she resigned herself to sleep again, expecting nothing but death - only to realise that there was very suddenly something staring at her, freezing her tightly in place. She would have screamed if her throat had not been so raw and her ideal of life so whittled away. There seemed hardly to be point in fighting any longer after so many long, harrowing years.

“If you’re so desperate for warmth, then why are you out here on the street?”

He spoke sharply, quickly and coldly, his voice overwhelmed with the accusatory tone to his words, as though the fact no one in that wretched place had a touch of mercy in their bodies was her fault, and hers alone.

And here he was, the same man who lived on the corner; the green eyed one with the fine coat and flawless cravat. Yet his coat was unbuttoned now, his collar limp and cravat untied, openly revealing the vulnerable curve of his pale throat. 

“I’m only waiting," she said, the words rasped and intermittent. What could she speak but the truth, after all? "Maybe someone will come along the road and throw sixpence into the drain." 

To her surprise, he lifted one large eyebrow at the short statement, sighing deeply and tiredly and standing as his breath formed soft clouds before his mouth. His lips were drawn into a thin line, and his eyes were shining in the gas lamp's faint yellow light.

Slowly removing his large coat, he bit his lip (not to mention looking immensely surprised with himself) as he threw down the garment to the girl, who caught it, her eyes widened and hands ceaselessly trembling.

Clearing his throat, the Englishman took a step backwards, before muttering a quick ‘good night’ and making his careful way back to the inviting warmth of his home, with his slender hands clutched at his shirt sleeves, and startled, widened eyes at his back.

Who knew, perhaps someone would care, or feel the slightest remorse if they found a body lying in the gutter, in the end. And perhaps, just perhaps, someone felt the thinnest sliver of compassion for a girl who still lay waiting on the side of the road.

I know that I said my next fic would be happy, but I misplaced my USB and yeah this happened. :icony-u-notearplz:

I really don't know.

Edit: This has now been rewritten! You can find the rewrite here: vienna-kangaroo.deviantart.com…

I do not own anything but the vague semblance of plot.

You own yourself.
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Staring out of the bedroom window, you saw the first few delicate drops of snow fall to the frozen ground below. A feeling of excitement passed through your body; you loved winter more than any other season during the year. You loved the snow, the snowball fights, the nights in front of the fireplace with a hot mug of tea or hot chocolate in your hands but more importantly, you loved the chilly time of year because you got to spend it with your best friend Arthur.

You had known Arthur since the two of you were kids. The moment you saw him, you wanted to be friends immediately, even though he was a bit reluctant at first due to his self-consciousness. Your small, awkward meeting blossomed into a fully-fledged friendship in a matter of weeks and it has stayed like that for several years. The only problem was, the pair of you went to different schools, which made it harder for you to see each other during the school year. That is why the Christmas season is a very substantial time for both of you for you had the entire week to yourselves.

A goofy grin forming on your face, you turned to face your sleeping friend. As tradition, Arthur would come over and reside at your house in Yorkshire for the week, staying for Christmas with your family. Gazing at Arthur, you had to cover your mouth to stop yourself from giggling. He had somehow fallen out of the bed you two shared and was sprawled flat on his back on the carpet. His long, lanky arms were spread out, looking as though he wanted to hug the air around him and his mouth was wide open, little snores emitting from it. Overall, he looked adorable and your heart began to flutter.

Truth was, over the many years you had known him, you had started to develop strong feelings for Arthur. At first you had thought, no way can I possibly like him. He's my best friend! But that had dramatically changed when you finished your first year of high school. You had walked out of the front doors of (name of high school), arms laden with books when you crashed into a figure standing front of you. Looking up, disgruntled, you came face-to-face with none other than Arthur. You remember the way he looked: more handsome than you had ever seen him, his brilliant greens shining with happiness; his strong arms that had wrapped themselves in a hug sent shivers down your spine and the smile that you had craved for months made you melt on the spot.

You got up from your spot at the window and sat crossed-legged next to the snoozing man. Lightly poking his cheek with a petite finger, he gave a quiet groan and wrinkled his nose. Doing it again, he swatted your hand away, causing you to snort in amusement and for him to open his eyes.

'What? Let me sleep,' he muttered, annoyed, before turning away from you and smacking his head on the bed with a powerful bang.

'Arthur!' you cried as Arthur moaned in pain. He sat up and rubbed his eyes with one hand and his forehead with the other. The green orbs were still hazy from sleep, his cheeks were flushed with cold and his golden hair was sticking up in every direction imaginable. He sent the bed frame a glare and mumbled, 'Good morning, to you too – git.'

You couldn't help it: you burst out laughing. Arthur gave you a blank expression before tackling you.

'You think it's funny?' he said teasingly, wiggling his fingers threateningly. You froze – Arthur knew how ticklish you were.

'Don't you dare,' you warned, your (e/c) eyes hard as steel. Arthur raised one bushy eyebrow cockily, then lowered his hands and tickled you. You tried pushing him away but your movements were rendered useless and soon, you were laughing with tears of mirth forming at the corners of your eyes.

'S-Stop! S-Stop A-Arthur stop!' you managed to gasp out, holding your splitting sides. Arthur had an evil look on his face and an even more menacing smile on his face.

'I'll stop on one condition,' he whispered, his fingers pausing, his childish expression turning serious. You were suddenly aware of the position you two were in and you felt your face burn in embarrassment.

'W-What?' you stuttered softly, locking your (e/c) gaze onto Arthur's green one.

'Close your eyes,' he said, placing his hands on either side of your head. You could have sworn that at that moment, you resembled a tomato but you obliged to his request. Suddenly, you felt a sensation on your lips and, opening your eyes, were shocked to find that Arthur had his lips pressed to yours.

He pulled away, a new look in his eyes – one that you had never seen in them before: love.

'I've been wanting to do that for a while now,' he admitted, a deep blush forming on his cheeks. You smiled and raised a hand, cupping his face.

'Likewise,' was all you said before you pulled Arthur into a mind-blowing kiss. He responded instantly, a hand disappearing into your (h/l), (h/c) hair as yours messed his blonde hair even more. When it became hard to breathe, you reluctantly broke it, with the biggest grin on your face.

'I love you, _____' Arthur said lovingly, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear and kissing your cheek. 'From the moment I met you.'

'I love you too, you daft man,' you replied cheekily which resulted in Arthur kissing you once again. You were happy and nothing could change that.  
G'Day. So, this is my first Reader fic! What the hell! I did not see that coming...
I've been meaning to write this for ages but it is my first one so don't kill me if it's terrible. It's 12:30 here, at night, on a Friday and I am tired.
Anyway, I am open to requests and am happy to accept any. More information here: [link]

ENJOY AND PLEASE COMMENT BEFORE YOU FAV!

:iconcommentplz::iconcommentplz::iconcommentplz::iconcommentplz::iconcommentplz::iconcommentplz::iconcommentplz::iconcommentplz::iconcommentplz::iconcommentplz::iconcommentplz::iconcommentplz::iconcommentplz::iconcommentplz::iconcommentplz::iconcommentplz::iconcommentplz::iconcommentplz:
Hetalia (c) Hidekazu Himaruya
You (c) You
Storyline (c) doubleox515

Preview picture is not mine.
Image found here: [link]
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WARNING: I swear. Big whoop. Oh, and Captain _____ can be your first name or last. Whatever you prefer. ^^ (But it probably should be last to be an equivalent to Captain Kirkland...)

~

You were the best goddamn pirate on the seven seas. And everyone that had ever set foot on one of those infamous vessels knew it. Running on adrenaline, luck, and skill, you were always spectacular, which led to no one questioning your sex.

Black pirate garb, gilded with gold embroidery of the finest kind, almost always graced your skin, and your sword was never out of reach. With a back up dagger in your boot, you were a deadly foe. Deadly, unless you were evenly matched. So far, you had never come across an opponent even worthy of your presence. You pondered this lacking enemy in your life as you stood at the bow of the Raven, the wind and salt whipping at your face, and playing with your strands of (h/c) hair that escaped your black pirate’s hat, with the large black feather, and a (f/c) gem decorating it.

Just traversing the seas, you lived the good life. You took what you wanted, and were considered ruthless. Your men were loyal to the point of them laying down their lives for you, and you treated them all well. There had been a time when mutiny threatened your livelihood. But you took down the attacking men single handedly, with all the ships from miles around watching your swordsmen ship with their spyglasses. They had all experienced, near firsthand, your skills, and were keen to steer clear out of your rampage. Now all your men knew that they would never have a better captain, and were satisfied and honored to spend the rest of their natural lives by your side.

Besides, all that mutinous behavior had happened decades ago. That’s right, decades. Your ship was blessed. Or I suppose you could say it was cursed, but her captain would never die. And that was you.

You pillaged villages, took all the goods in the houses of nobles, ransacked other ships, even other pirate ships. You had absolutely no rules, and always found a way to make your name uttered in hushed tones.

“Captain!” A loud voice broke you from your reverie. “We’re out of rum!”

You turned to face your men, looking at you expectantly. A smirk on your lips you commanded, “Get me my spyglass. We’ll find the nearest ship.”

One of your deck hands bounded off to fulfill the request, and you awaited him patiently, hand outstretched. Far off in the distance you saw a vessel, not dissimilar to your own. Shutting the spyglass, you called out, “Ready yourself, men. There’s another pirate’s ship not too far from here.”

“Aye, Captain.” they said, immediately preparing to board the other ship and take it for all it was worth.

You grinned, scaling the ropes to sit in the crow’s nest. This was the best part.

~

“What?” Captain Kirkland scoffed, “I’m not afraid of Captain _____!”

His men cowered, and one poor superstitious soul spoke out, “Captain! They say if you speak her name so loudly, she appears!”

“Oh, really?” Kirkland smirked. “Bring her on! I can take her!”

Alfred, Kirkland’s favored hand, stood, “Captain, sir, despite all your accomplishments, she is not human!”

“Neither am I!” Kirkland said with a smirk, thinking of the strength of the entire English Empire, at this time a massive world power, behind him.

Alfred’s blue eyes widened, “Exactly why I wouldn’t like to see the two of you face off!”

“Captain!” a frantic voice trilled out over the madness, drawing Captain Kirkland’s attention to the crow’s nest.

Kirkland yelled, “What is it?”

“A boat! Approaching fast, off the starboard side!” Then a sharp intake of breath was heard, over the choppy seas, and he hollered, “It’s the Raven!”

Green eyes wide, Kirkland turned to see the speck coming towards them in the distance. It was in fact, a blackened dot coming at them quite quickly. How had you known he was questioning your skills? Brandishing his sword, he realized he didn’t particularly care. All he wanted was to defeat you, and your legend that preceded you, once and for all.

The Raven glided up along side his own ship smoothly, your men not yet making a move. In fact, he couldn’t see a thing. What he didn’t know was your men were occupied with subduing his canons. Couldn’t have them damaging your ship, now could they?

It was just you. And for a moment Kirkland was utterly paralyzed. You were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Your long black coat was tailored to fit you perfectly, and you swung on a rope across the gap between the two ships, wind rustling through your gorgeous (h/c) hair. When you landed on the edge of his ship, he could see your (e/c) eyes, sparkling in excitement.

But you just stood up there, hand dangerously close to your scabbard, and said calmly, “If you give me all of your supplies, I’ll let you live.”

“Bloody hell, woman, are you daft?!” Captain Kirkland said, taking out his pistol and shooting you once in the chest. At the impact you fell backwards, making people gasp. Were you really so easily defeated?

No. No you weren’t. They saw your hand, on one of their ropes. You kicked the side of the boat, flipped over backwards, and landed back aboard, a smile wide on your face as you faced the sea.

You laughed out loud at the silly attempt, and turned to spit the bullet out at a terrified Alfred. It hit him in the forehead, and he picked it up, feeling woozy. Laughing heartily, you drew your sword, “You thought you could just shoot me? Are you daft?”

“What are you?” Captain Kirkland asked, mystified at your peculiar nature.

That grin never left, and you said quietly, “Your worst nightmare.”

He was fed up with this. Maybe you could spit out a bullet, but he decided to see whether you could reattach your head. The dreaded Captain Arthur Kirkland, the entire English Empire, the world power, didn’t have to take that from a silly little girl playing pirate. He came at you with his sword drawn, ready to duel.

Of course, you had once taken down an entire ship of mutinous sailors, but he was the bloody British Empire! He could hold his own against anybody!

Kirkland wanted to wipe that smirk off your face, but he realized you weren’t even looking at him. You looked around him, the chaotic fight that had broken out as your men boarded below and made their way to the deck. “Your men aren’t weak. I like that. Let’s hope you know how to have some fun.” you told him with a smile, looking stunning.

And with that, you came at him as well.

Suddenly the two of you were lost in a flurry of sword strikes, clashing with such force that sparks flew. Kirkland could tell your obsidian shaded blade was no ordinary metal, but he couldn’t take it into consideration too long.

You had immediately taken the offensive, however so had he. It was peculiar, but somehow it worked. With each move taken, you would move from another blow and give out one of your own, swords clashing frequently.

Such ferocity was unseen in these men’s short lives, and everyone circled around to watch the brutal display. You were ecstatic. You had never dueled with someone so talented before!

Your black coat was ripped, and his hat had been knocked clean in half by your honed blade. He had a small knick along his cheek, which had begun to sting. Blood dribbled down, disappearing in the red of his red coat, that was slowly degrading in the fight. And still both of you whirled, exhilarated and full of bloodlust.

Only infuriating him further, you began to talk casually to your crew. Unlike Captain Kirkland, you were able to focus on many things, and had realized you were putting on a show for all the crew, adding a few flourishes here and there to taste. “Men!” you shouted.

“Aye, Captain!” they hollered back, ready to take any command, and happy you were alright with them staring.

You smiled as you saw Kirkland angered by your casual air, his moves slipping ever so slightly. “Kill no one. And don’t set any fires.” Sometimes you harnessed ‘greek fire’ to make sure not a soul could ever chase after you.

“Aye, Captain!” they chorused again.

As you conversed with your crew, you could see Kirkland’s anger getting to him more and more. Breaking eye contact for half a second, you looked to your best hand and nodded at him, as if to say, ‘now’. Hopefully he would know what you wanted, and you saw him moving, which was a good sign.

But Captain Kirkland took advantage of this. He was in close, dangerously close to you, and you had to deal with his fury driven blows. Once more, you quickly gained the upper hand, with your head back in the game. You were working at breakneck speeds, and eventually had him against the far wall, one fall away from being shark bait.

With your last strike you managed to disarm him, his hand slashed open a bit. For a moment you kept him staring at the edge of your sword with beautiful wide green eyes, but you lowered your weapon.

You moved closer to him, staring deep into those viridescent orbs. He was attractive, and talented. You had the urge to throw him over your shoulder and keep as a toy. But that wasn’t how your did things. Standing right before him, you shot your hand out behind him to grab the rope you had taken over and secured, which made him flinch. Getting a good grip on it you kissed him softly and quickly, then jumped back to your own vessel.

The Raven was already speeding along, your men having taken your signal and emptied Kirkland’s ship of goods. You were now fully stocked, and completely spent.

You stood on the stern of the Raven, waving back to the dumbstruck Captain Kirkland, who had turn to watch you leave. “Until we meet again, Kirkland!” you said with a bow and a flourish of your hat. Which had inexplicably managed to remain in your possession throughout the fight.

Kirkland watched you leave for a bit, but when you were a good ways off, someone snapped out of it and said, “She made off with all our loot!”

Captain Kirkland’s eyes narrowed as he thought of you, and said under his breath with a vicious smirk, “Yes... Until we meet again, bloody vixen...”
I realized I had never written anything with a truly badass Reader-chan. So, here you go, all you badass people out there. ^^ Have fun with Iggy, but be gentle. d=
Anyway, how do you guys like this? Part two? Because I'm not really sure...

~

In other news, I finally replaced my iPod! I now have a gen 5 iPod touch in perfect working condition, and no longer have to press the headphone jack on my poor four year old gen 2 iPod touch to get music to play in the left earbud. Her name is Emmeline. (If you can place that reference correctly, you will win an imaginary prize. And yes, I name my electronics.) I... am happy. Er. Than usual. Carry on...

~

Hetalia and all its characters belong to Himaruya Hidekaz

You belong to Captain Kirkland. :iconpirateiggyplz: Or does he belong to you? o.O
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"Excuse me, _______ -san, but what are you rooking at?” a quiet Asian voice whispered beside you. You jumped, surprised by the sudden voice. You quickly closed the window that you were searching on.

“Ah, Kiku! What are you doing here?” you laughed.

“I was searching for seh anime the schoor just got in,” he grinned, tilting his head so that his dark hair fell to one side. “So, pardon me for asking, but was sat the Red String of Faith myth that you were rooking at?”

Your face flushed a tad bit pinker. “Uhm, yes, it was.”

“I sought so. You know, sat is very popurar in my country. Do you berieve in it, ______?” Kiku asked, looking into your (e/c) eyes. You knew that look well. That was the one where he scrutinized every detail of your face, read the mood, and could tell when you were lying.

You looked down, gazing at the black keyboard in front of you. “Well, I think it’s interesting…” you said, your (h/c) hair falling into your face.

“Ah. Ret me guess, prease. You are searching this because you want to see if you wourd be connected to someone,” he stated plainly.

In a way, he was right. The thought of being connected to someone by Fate fascinated you. So the whole myth of a red string unseen by the naked eye attaching you to a special someone was something that you believed in. You wished that you could glimpse the thread to find who you would be paired up with, especially because of your major crush on Arthur Kirkland.

You glanced back up at him. His normally dull brown eyes had taken on an ungodly light to them.

“Kiku... Why do you care?” you said, studying him.

“If I am right… Arthur-san also knows of sis myth. I must go now. Excuse me, ______ -san.” The Japanese boy bowed to you and hurried off, shuffling through the stacks of shelves in the nearly-empty library. You sighed and logged off of the computer. Lunch was nearly over anyways.

You got up, stretched, and grabbed your bag. You began to get worried if Kiku had noticed your attraction to Arthur, the English man at school. You were good friends with the Brit, but were sure he did not think of you the way you thought of him. After all, he had declared once, “I could never love an American woman. They remind me too much of Alfred.”

Alfred was another American at this mixed countries school. He was a loud mouth, obnoxious guy, but he was sweet. Besides, Arthur shouldn’t stereotype people, you thought as you walked lazily out of the library and to your locker.

The bell went off as you reached your destination. You sighed again and shook off your worries. Kiku would never bother you like that.

You noticed Arthur down the hall as you took off. Waving at him, you quickly shot a glance at his figure. He waved back and turned away from you. Arthur had been doing that a lot lately. Acknowledging you when it was necessary and not at any other time. You missed the times when you and him could talk without anything be wrong. That honestly hurt your heart. Nobody else knew this, you were sure, but you absolutely loved Arthur. This ignorance killed you inside a little more each day. Things change, you thought dejectedly.

~.~.~.~ The Next Day ~.~.~.~.~

Alfred approached you during your fourth period class, History. “Dude, like, totally check this out!” he boomed as he had handed a folded piece of paper.

“Al-righty then,” you answered, taking the note. “Thanks Al! But what is this?”

“You’ll see, dude!” he smiled, skipping on off back to his desk. You grinned, shaking your head. “Oh, Al,” you muttered.

You unfolded the note. You were surprised at the basic information telling you to go to Kiku’s locker during lunch, which was your next class. You didn’t recognize the handwriting.

That’s a little weird, you thought. Nonetheless, your sense of curiosity was piqued. By the time the bell rang, you were practically jumping out of your seat with suspense.

You walked through the crowd, pushing yourself through the throngs of people to get to Kiku’s locker. By the time you finally reached it, the minute bell had rung off, leaving the majority of the hall empty as the others had already gone to their classes or lunch. You noticed Kiku rummaging through his locker.

“Hi Kiku!” you greeted him. He jumped and turned to face you.

“Ah, herro _____-san!” he said. Although his greeting was platonic, there was something jerky in his movements that made you suspicious.

“So why am I here? I got a note telling me to be by your locker,” you said.

“Hai. You wirr see soon. But prease crose your eyes now,” he responded, looking at you intently.

“Fine. I won’t get hurt or anything, will I?” you asked, smoothing out your uniform blouse.

“Of course not!” Kiku scoffed. You closed your eyes.

“No peeking!” the Japanese boy ordered. You rolled your eyes behind closed lids.

You could feel something being done to your hand, but true to your word you didn’t peek. You bopped back from one foot to another as Kiku did whatever he was doing. You must have had your eyes closed for at least a minute.

“Open!” he commanded, and you opened your eyes and peeked down at your hand. You gasped. There, tied on the little finger, was a red string.

“Kiku?” you asked, glancing at him. He shook his head slowly.

“No questions. Forrow seh string.” You followed his directions, butterflies growing in your stomach. “What’s going on?” you murmured to yourself. The string wound around lockers and corners. You were transfixed by the tiny path that it was forming, wondering what was on the other end.

Not paying any attention, you bumped abruptly into someone. You fell forward onto whoever you had just tripped over, landing squarely on their chest.

“Awh, jeez. I’m sorry,” you muttered, pulling yourself up into a push-up position. When you noticed who you were on top of, you felt your ears and cheeks heat up, probably turning a furious pink. “A-Arthur?”

The Brit looked up at you. His eyes were so brilliantly green… “No problem, love,” he replied, turning away from you. You thought you caught a hint of red dusting his cheeks.

You rolled off of him, lying beside him on the tiled floor. “I should have noticed where I was going,” you said, lifting up your hand and looking at the red string around your finger. “This thing distracted me.”

Arthur was quiet, and you turned to face him. He was still not acknowledging you, his blonde, shaggy hair covering his eyes and eyebrows. Great, you thought, now he won’t even talk to me.

You groaned and sat up, rubbing your face into your hands. This wasn’t going anywhere. “Well, I’m gonna go now,” you whispered. Standing up, you brushed yourself off and walked back in the direction that you were originally heading.

How embarrassing that he couldn’t even speak to you. You had known Arthur since you were eight, and now he couldn’t even talk about the memories you had made together. As you walked on, you felt something tugging you back. You looked at your hand and noticed that the string was being plucked on.

Confused, you back-tracked to where you had crashed into Arthur. As you rounded the corner, you saw the British boy was standing up now, brushing off his school uniform. He looked incredibly flustered. For the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why. Then you noticed his hand.

There was a string tied around the little finger.

Your face turned as red as the string. You had no idea what to do now. So you stood there and waited. Arthur seemed to notice this.

“C-could you come here, _____?” he asked, still not making eye contact. You approached him slowly. “Did you get a note as well?” You nodded, your (h/c) hair shaking into your face.

“Huh. That explains it,” Arthur grimaced. You looked up at him. You were getting tired of this game. You reached up and grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at you.

“Why haven’t you been talking to me?” you demanded. “What’s changed?” He looked away, swallowing hard. He may have been taller, but that didn’t deter you. You jerked his chin so that he had to look at you again. “Answer me! Everything was fine before! What’s different now?!” Tears were forming in your eyes.

“A-a lot has changed,” he whispered.

“So much that you have to act like a jerk every time I see you?” you yelled. Those tears were now threatening to spill.

“I don’t mean to hurt you, love,” he murmured, looking at you with those emerald eyes of his. The thick brows on top only added to his expression. A tear finally spilled out, trailing down your cheek. Arthur, finally seeming to care a little, raised his hand and gently wiped the tear away with his thumb. You dropped your hand from his chin. “Just tell me what’s different,” you cried.

“It’s just—I- I love you, ______. I never noticed how beautiful you were until now. It made me nervous, wanting to talk to you. I didn’t think you felt the same way… so I decided to put distance between us.” To his surprise, you began crying harder. “What’s wrong?” he asked, sounding concerned.

Through your blurry eyes, you answered, “That’s all I’ve wanted to hear from you, Arthur. I- I love you as well.”

The British man pulled you close, embracing you into his chest. He rubbed your back, gently telling you to stop crying, muttering sweet nothings. This made you extremely happy. You hugged him back, burying your face into the crook of his neck. You stopped crying.

You realized something, though. “A-Arthur?” You pulled away.

“Yes, love?” he asked.

“When you said you would never date an American girl…”
“Didn’t mean a word of that. You understand, right?”

Instead of answering, you grabbed the back of his neck and pulled his mouth to meet yours. At first, you could tell he was surprised. But he closed his eyes and kissed you back softly. That kiss was full of promises. It may have lasted longer, but a noise from around the corner distracted the both of you.

Kiku was standing there, holding a camera, snapping a picture. America was standing beside him, looking like a girl does at a puppy store.

“_______! You totally conquered Mr. Brows over here! It’s all because of the hero this worked out!” he yelled, flailing his arms and giving you a big thumbs- up. You grinned at him, while Arthur yelled, “What are you talking about, you bloody wanker?!”

“I berieve Alfred-san is telling seh truth. I have pictures,” Kiku piped up. Everyone looked at him for a moment, saying nothing.

Arthur pulled you closer to him once again. “Well, then, I’m going to have to agree with you blokes. She’s won me over.” He said, holding up his hand with the red string. “And, for once, Alfred, that was a good plan.” You nodded in agreement. You had suspected that Alfred and Kiku had set this up. “Thanks guys!”

You grinned up at Arthur as he looked down at you. You heard another camera snap. Both you and Arthur glared in Kiku’s direction.

“I aporogize. This is just too good,” Kiku responded, that ungodly gleam back in his eyes. Everybody laughed, the sound bouncing through the empty hall.
EDIT: Woah woah woah!!! 1,000+ views?! Over 130 Favorites?! Ohmigoodness thank you so much! :iconletmehugyouplz: *clears throat* Now carry on, dear reader! ^^

I've had the idea for this for a while. Wouldn't this be so cute to have happen to you in real life?! :iconblushplz:
Anyways, this took waaaaaay to long to upload. Without further ado, enjoy! ^^
You belong to :iconcuteenglandplz:
And I don't own Hetalia!
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