And now it was lunch and your heart was hammering and you could hear it in your ears and your stomach fluttered, the sensation almost overwhelming enough to trip you on your way to Mr. Jones's room. You clutched a hand to your stomach upon entering the hallway, hesitating at the closet door. When he'd said to meet him "here" did he mean the closet or the classroom?
You got your answer when Mr. Jones stepped out to close the classroom door. He saw you and smiled, nodding his head toward the room in invitation. You smiled back shyly, entering with a shaky breath. "H-hi."
"You're late," he teased, walking over to his desk and writing something in Sharpie on a piece of binder paper. "This is becoming habit. Do you like keeping me waiting?"
Heart, shut up, you can't hear the teacher. "I'm sorry I was finishing a chem test in Braginski's class."
"Ooh. Gotcha." He winked up at
It sounded a bit funny.
But what did it mean?
These were the thoughts that filled your mind as you continued on your stroll around the park near your house. Earlier, Francis had come up to you and told you to ask Arthur to snog you...
When you had asked what the word 'snog' meant, he merely did that funny 'Ohonhonhon~' laugh of his, his perverted smirk growing a bit wider. He then said, 'Arthur will show you soon, ma cherie!' before walking away, leaving you confused.
You had considered looking it up, but being the lazy person you were you decided not to. Snog couldn't be a bad thing, could it?
...Well, maybe it could, considering how Francis had told you to ask Arthur to snog you. And, well... Francis is a big fat pervert. Snog could very well mean sex if it came from Francis. And you didn't plan to lose your virginity just yet.
Well actually, losing your virginity to Arthur wouldn't
You tried to recall the last time you ran a wash. More than a week ago. That explained it.
Now you scraped the back of your dresser drawers for something that didn't break the dress code. "Arugh!" The minutes on that clock were changing far too fast. Well you had to wear something. You tugged on a really tight pair of jeans, which felt a little like a push-up bra for your butt at the moment. Shoving your feet into a pair of tennis shoes, you donned a very lacy, tight camisole with thin straps. Over that, you wore a cute graphic tee you hardly ever got to wear, because it was an off-the-shoulder scoop neck, a detail you hadn't noticed when you bought it on clearance.
You brushed your hair quickly, muttering a curse as you checked the clock again, and grabbed your school supplies, leaving the house without breakfast.
Your heart sped and you blushed as you halted your brisk-walk in front of the blue door to your fir
Maybe you can argue that you’re courageous or bold, and sure, that can help make confessions easier – but truth be told, there’s always that split second of panic as you anticipate their answer which can either bring you a sense of elation or send you into the comforts of your home, guzzling down your favorite ice cream with your broken heart keeping you company.
And so, confessions are difficult.
But when they’re unintentional…
Whispered ‘I love you’s heard by the wrong ears, heartfelt letters that land into the recipient’s hands a bit too early… there are far too many ways for a confession to go wrong when someone does it by accident.
Although, it’s not so bad when you’re receiving a confession – albeit accidentally – from someone who adores you just as much as you adore them.
Especially when the confession is
“Sure, what is it dear?” Quickly, you followed him into the other room, seeing as he was actually willing to talk to you tonight.
“Daddy, how much do you make an hour?” A gasp left Arthur’s lips as his mind began to wonder why you felt the need to know. He shook his head to rid himself of sleep, seeing as he could barely see straight.
“Why do you ask such a thing?” he questioned while setting his briefcase
If there was one thing you hated the most, it had to be people attempting to contact you when you were trying so desperately to sleep.
What time was it again? Gaze flickering to your nightstand where a digital clock rested, you exhaled a sigh once your eyes skimmed over the bright numbers.
You should be asleep by now, but no – instead, whoever controlled your fate decided to pull a jerk move and force you awake due to your phone going off.
At first, your phone only went off once, signaling that you’d received one text. Normally you ignored things like that, dismissing it as something you could reply to in the morning – however, one text turned into two, and before you knew it, your phone went off at least ten times within the time span of five minutes.
Someone was obviously needing to contact you, and with a groan,
You had always been able to see the wolf. You couldn't remember a time when the wolf hadn't been there.
When you had grown old enough to talk, you told everyone about the wolf. Your parents would laugh and joke about how your imaginary friend wasn't like other children's imaginary friends. At first it had confused you. You could see the wolf, even your best friend Felix could see the wolf.
The both of you had fun, waltzing about with the pink, bow tie wearing wolf.
But soon, even Felix denounced the wolf, laughing at you for having an imaginary friend.
So you ignored the wolf, hoping it would go away. When it didn't, you would yell at it to leave. Of course you were smart enough to make sure you were alone when yelling.
It would leave and you would feel free, no longer needing to worry about being insane. but it would come back. It always came back no matter what you did to shoo it away.
The stupid pink, bow
Not That Drunk
"Stupid Arthur " you grumbled to yourself, taking another swig of your drink, effectively finishing your 4th beer. " And that stupid, freakin' police force, I tell ya *hic* now, they've stolen my best friend!"
Sighing, you crossed your arms on the bar and nestled your head in comfortably. When you felt someone gently tap you on the shoulder you looked up to see Mathias, a regular at the pub, grinning down at you.
"Hey _____," he said, cheerfully running a hand through his sexy gelled up blonde hair. "Where's Sergeant Bushy-Brows?"
You scoffed at the mention of Arthur and straightened up on your stool, so as to face Mathias properly. "That *hic* bloody git," you growled, mocking the Brit's speech. "has ditched me for the fuzz. The fuzz, Mathias." And with that, you jumped off of your stool, threw your arms in the air and bellowed "THE FUUUUUZZZZZZ!!"
Well, that was when all hell broke loose.
A shady Dutch man in the back of the pub
"What did she say, mon ami?"
"She screamed and ran away..."
You couldn't help but smile as you eavesdropped on two of your classmates's lie of a conversation, as you "read" your book. Why a lie? Your happen to know that the loud-mouthed albino was with your best friend yesterday evening, cooking pancakes and waffles.
You were smiling, but not only because of that little lie, but also because that last guy was actually right next to you, well, he was sitting on his desk, really. You forced yourself to turn your attention back to your story, but the thought of the gorgeous albino next to you, on whom you may or may not be crushing hard, kept you far away from your goal.......
"Hey, [Name]~!" you heard a soft, small voice call your name.
You lifted your gaze from your book, just to see your Canadian best friend right in front of you. You smiled.
"Hey, Mattie~!" you chirped.
"Yo, awesome-but-not-as-awesome-as-me fri
You rummaged through the mountains of cardboard boxes that didn't look like they had been touched for a lifetime; this room was filled with several centuries worth of English history and yet Arthur had never once even hinted to its existence. Every box, every item in this room held a story, and you loved stories. So far you had found what appeared to be a floor plan for the original Globe Theatre, a black and white photograph of Arthur standing outside of Buckingham palace dressed as one of the soldiers that never smile, and a rather official-looking letter from none-other than Queen Victoria herself! Just as you were beginning to wonder if anything hidden in in this place wouldn't interest you, a large cluster of pale feathers caught your eye; wasting no time in uncovering the object, you were left holding an expensive looking hat. You grinned, admiring your reflection in an ancient mirror before revealing the remaining contents of the box that the ha
'Lame? I was the person who raised you, you bloody git! Show some respect!'
"Ohonhonhon~ I agree with America, ma chérie! You're quite a softie now, non?"
'Why you bloody frog!'
Comments like these filled the meeting room, where the World Conference was supposed to be held; but of course, a meeting with the various countries practically spelled out 'trouble.' In every meeting, at least some sort of chaos ensued.
Today's topic? England's apparent 'weakness' and 'lameness.'
If it weren't for him being a gentleman, he would've immediately belted out every snappy thought that crossed his mind as comments about him were made; actually, he would've, gentleman or not. But, he had promised _____ to not get into any trouble, and he intended to keep that promise.
Though, that was proving rather hard at the moment.
As America and France teased him about
He snickered. "You'll see~!"
I rolled my eyes.
We arrived at a door, which Alfred opened and shoved me into the room, closing and locking the door. It turns out the room wasn't a room-- it was a closet. It was a small, empty closet, barely able to fit two people.
Wait. Two people. . .
I banged my fist on the door. "Alfred Foster Jones! Get me out of this closet, or so help you, I will--"
Before I could say any more, the door opened and Arthur was pushed in. The door closed, pushing Arthur closer to me. I could see his emerald green eyes staring at me through the darkness. My face heated up, and I felt his heat up as well.
"Ah. . . Arthur. . ."
"Oh, _____," he muttered. "H-Hello, love. . ."
"Um. . . Did Alfred drag you in here, too?"
He nodded. "Yes. He didn't even bother explaining to me why."
"Ah. . ."
He didn't know, but I did. Alfred knew about my crush on Arthur; he probably thought t
Brushing a bit of hair out of his face you leaned down and kissed him gently on the cheek. You always got up this early to make him tea and breakfast before he woke up. Slipping out of bed you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist.
He was trying to pull you back in his sleep. Gingerly you disentangled his arms from you and slipped on your bathrobe.
You made him his tea and some eggs and toast.
Mama, a little voice from the kitchen whispered. You turned to see Matthew.
What is it baby?
Matthew was holding his toy bear to his chest, Im hungry can we have pancakes?
You shook your head, How about toast?
The ten year old sighed, but nodded and sat at the kitchen table rubbing his eyes.
A few mintues later rapid footsteps were heard, MA!
"Go to Hell!"
These were the constant insults that invaded your mind every day. You don't know why everyone picked on you. Perhaps they found it fun to see you in pain. The sadistic glow in their eyes when they push you to the ground was enough to know they didn't care.
"Hey loser! Watch where you're going!" sneered a girl with blonde hair. She shoved passed you and moved towards her group of friends. They all looked at you, whispered, and laughed.
You continued walking to history class and took your usually seat in the front row. As you begun flipping through your notes, you were flicked in the back of the head. You turned around to see Alfred Jones. Oh how you loathed him. He was the first person to start picking on you. He made everyone else too. His wheat blonde hair and bright blue eyes make you t
He quickly jumped off landing on his bum
“Haha! Sorry about that Canada!”
“Eh, it’s okay…” He whispered quietly.
America took the seat next to the Canadian with the same expression plastered on his face since he came in;
Guilty and frustrated.
“Eh…what’s wrong America?” Canada asked the depressed American.
“Uh, well, England seems to be down again today and won’t watch any horror movies with me!” He crosses his arms making fishy lips
“Eh, what do you mean he’s down?” Canada, seemingly got into the subject, bothered on
America turns to him with a sad face,
“I don’t know! When I do something he doesn’t like he doesn’t even yell at me! He just stares off into space with that same frown he’s had since a few days ago!”
He lets out a frustrated sigh before grabbing
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 dec
Sure, you loved the guy, but his drinking habits were ridiculous. You've never seen anyone deteriorate into an emotional wreck after one shot like Arthur did. One second he was holding an intelligent conversation, and the next he was starting fights and confessing his apparent undying love for you. You've never mentioned the last part to him.
Well, you weren't going to think about that now. This was the first weekend in months where you weren't being dragged out to some party by Alfred or persuaded into some crazy antic by Gilbert
****2nd grade memory****
"Caterpillar eyebrows!" A random kid yelled catching your attention.
"Yeah why don't you just go cry to your stupid fairy friends!" Another kid yelled and soon enough you were following the sounds of their screaming down the hall where you found a group of kids picking on a kid you recognized from your class; Arthur Kirkland (England).
"Leave him alone!" you found yourself yelling as you came to his rescue.
At the time you had no idea why you saved him, it just seemed like the right thing to do. The kids all looked at you and laughed, but you stood your ground, your older brother had taught you how to fight, and you weren't afraid to hurt anyone.
"And why do you care so much?" One kid asked.
"Yeah, why stand up for a kid who still has imaginary friends?" The other asked.
"Because he's mien (my) friend!" you said crossing your arms. "Now leave him alone before I call my big brothers!"
And with that threat the group ran off lea
"Hi! The name's Alfred F. Jones, and I'm the hero!" his blue eyes glittered with excitement. He grinned like an idiot and continued, "You're in a couple of my classes, but I don't remember your name! What is it?"
"_-_____ ______," you whispered, barely audible. You tilted your head down so that your bangs covered up your blushing face. You've always been rather shy, and no one really talks to you much. You've naturally started bowing your head in shyness when people you're not close to try to have a conversatio
~Prompt by the wonderful Hetalia-Style. Here you go girl!!! Warning: Minor swearing and Adult themes near the end...I guess. Song listened to while writing:Faux Tales - Atlas (Lustcore) Hope you enjoy! ~
The sea was calm today, stretched out like a whole other vast world before Arthur's eyes. He loved it, loved the fresh salty air and the temper mental waves. How it could change in a blink of an eye. His feet clicked on the wooden floorboards as he walked from his beautiful ship onto the dock of Port Royal. He left his crew to unload the bounty they had collected throughout their month trip. He looked back at them, noticing with a smirk the way they jumped with a mixture of fear and respect.
Yes the sea was beautiful. Breathtaking.
He walks down the dock, looking around until his eyes land on a young woman with (h/c) locks, trailing softly down her back in w
“Fine, actually,” the blond English teacher replied, lounging with his feet on one chair and his head resting tiredly on the back of another one. “Mostly tired.”
“Second period students wipe ya out?”
“Yes. The worst. Just holding out for the last period of the day, at this point.”
“I feel ya.” Alfred came over and yanked the chair out from under Arthur’s feet, spun it around and straddled the back of it, muscling through a drink of the acidic coffee. Arthur let off a disgruntled sigh and sat straight. “Tea again, I see.”
“Coffee again, I see,” Arthur mocked, taking a sip of his own drink.
“I can’t understand why you drink that stuff.”
“Me? You do
France sighed to himself as he walked slowly to the world meeting. He knew he was going to be late to the world meeting, but he didn't care. If it was left up to him he wouldn't even be going to this stupid meeting in the First place since it was to be held in the one place he couldn't stand: England. But alas, France's boss was making him attend today so he walked on slowly, the less time he had to deal with England the better.
France finally saw the meeting hall and was about to walk in when something caught his attention. The faint sound of a child crying. France thought he was going crazy at first, in fact he was sure he was since it was getting close to the time of the year when he lost Canada to England and that always upset him to think about and remember. He looked around confused before he found a basket with a tiny baby wailing inside of it.
He looked around confused. Who would leave a poor child in the ally?! He picked up the baby w