feuilledrabbles

[feuilledrabbles]

i missed day two but not day three! @spamanoweek

Day Three: Surprise

Lovino clutched the ring, taking a few practiced breaths. He straightened himself out and tried to think strong thoughts, but doubts kept wheedling away at his brain. He flipped the now-warm ring around his fingers and breathed in slowly, holding it, and releasing it just as slowly. Squaring his shoulders, Lovino walked out of the bathroom purposefully.

Antonio waited at the table and turned when he heard Lovino’s return, a sparkle lighting up his eyes as they always did for only Lovino. The Spaniard greeted Lovino cheerfully and Lovino had to swallow his nerves before choking out an answer. Though Antonio blinked and gave him one of his small, infamous, confused smiles, he didn’t question him.

Lovino slid into his seat and fiddled with his fingers and the ring under the table. Was this too normal? Antonio was an eccentric guy, what if he wanted an eccentric proposal? What if Antonio didn’t even want to get married? Lovino swore he’d talked to Antonio before about this but now, the conversation escaped his mind.

Even if Antonio did want to get married, this was a pretty average way to do it... they were on Lovino’s family’s balcony, the one in the restaurant that overlooked all of Venice. Lovino had carefully put this date together to make sure that they weren’t interrupted by other customers. What if Antonio wanted something extravagant, like skydiving with Will you marry me? spelled out on the ground?

“Lovino!”

Lovino flinched violently, turning his wide eyes to meet Antonio’s worried ones. Antonio looked concerned and tried another smile, worrying his lip and fiddling with his fork.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly. “If your distracted, we can do this another time–”

“Marry me,” Lovino blurted out. Antonio’s smile froze, as did the rest of his body. His gaze was locked on Lovino’s.

A few emotions raged few Lovino in those few seconds after he had ever so tactfully blurted those two words out. He felt incredibly embarrassed but also liberated. He had done it. Awfully, and he needed a smooth, suave follow up, but he had done it.

He took one final deep breath and stood up, nearing Antonio and falling onto one knee. He heard Antonio’s sharp intake of breath, felt the wood underneath his knee, and both fear and anticipation pulsed through his entire being. Lovino looked up at Antonio, who already looked like he was tearing up.

“Antonio Fernandez Carriedo,” Lovino started. He hesitated for a single moment before taking the final plunge. Lovino’s eyes locked with Antonio’s and suddenly, that was all he could see. His entire world was encompassed in those green seas that swam with tears.

“Many years ago, you tried to get my number while I was working, but I was always too busy to pay attention to you. So you waited, two and a half hours, for my shift to be over, just for my number.”

He stopped to gather himself and tried to push back his own bout of tears that had started threatening to show.

“After that we had a series of dates that felt like a dream. I swore that there had to be a catch, because there was no way that–” he closed his eyes and broke off, feeling those tears start to fall just as his throat closed off. Antonio reached forward and brushed his fingers against Lovino’s cheek, smoothing the tears away and fueling him to continue. His eyes found Antonio’s again.

“There was no way that this funny, charismatic, perfect man was interested in me. And after we became a couple, the amazing dates never ended, and my doubts grew higher and higher...” Lovino smiled, just a little, as he looked back on it. “I knew that you were the one for me after our first fight.”

The surprise on Antonio’s face made Lovino let out a laugh, leaning into Antonio’s hand, which had still not left his face. “Before, all of my relationships ended with a fight, but we were able to work through it. It was that night, when we were falling asleep next to each other, that I thought I want to marry this man.”

Antonio’s breath hitched in his throat and Lovino could barely see him through the water in his eyes. “And I’m sorry it took me this long to act on that thought.”

Antonio shook his head in disbelief, smiling dumbfoundedly, as if he couldn’t believe that Lovino was apologizing for that.

“S-so...” Lovino stuttered. He steeled himself. “Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, I love you more than life itself. Will you marry me?” He held the ring out, arms shaking anxiously. He had laid his heart out and now, all he could do was wait.

“O-oh...” Antonio breathed. He slid off of his chair to be eye-to-eye with Lovino and grasped his face between his hands. Both of them had tears freely sliding down their faces and Antonio had a watery smile adorning his features. “Lovino, I love you more than I can say... and I would be honored to marry you.”

Lovino wanted to burst into sobs and kiss Antonio like there was no tomorrow, but instead, he shakily took Antonio’s hand off of his face and slipped the metal band onto his finger. Antonio blinked rapidly, twisting the ring around his finger in awe, looking completely floored.

It was like a snapping string, the way Antonio lurched forwards and enveloped Lovino in his arms. He started babbling incoherently, Lovino catching tidbits like “I love you,” “Oh my god,” and “We’re getting married!”

Lovino shut him up by grabbing his face and pressing their lips together. Antonio immediately responded and pulled their bodies flush against one another. Lovino’s hands tangled into Antonio’s curls and he felt his lips start to bruise from the Antonio’s fervor.

Eventually they had to part for air, and they leaned their foreheads together, breathing heavily.

“Did you... like it?” Lovino whispered, eyes searching Antonio’s face.

Antonio seemed to understand what Lovino was referencing and his smile worked its way into a beaming grin. “Everything was perfect. Is perfect.”

“Only the best for you,” Lovino said, allowing himself one moment of teeth-aching sweetness. After all, this was for Antonio. Antonio deserved the world and more.

Antonio laughed and nuzzled Lovino’s face. “I love you more than any language can explain. Te quiero. Te amo. Ti amo, Lovino–”

“Shut up and kiss me, bastard,” Lovino interrupted him, entangling his fingers further into Antonio’s hair.

Antonio gave him a crooked smile. “Who am I to deny my fiancé?“ the word rolled off of his tongue and Lovino shivered. Moments later Antonio’s lips were on his and all he could think about was Antonio, his lips, and fiancé...

“Ti amo anch’io...” he murmured over and over between kisses. “Ti amo tanto, Antonio...”

They were a mess, full of tears, mussed hair, and a tangle of limbs on the floor, but in their eyes, it was perfect, because their fiancé was there to hold them and kiss them like there was no tomorrow.

[feuilledrabbles]

guess what?? @spamanoweek :DD

Day One: Dresses

He frowned and turned slightly, looking himself up and down in the mirror. A disapproving tone escaped his mouth.

“What?” he heard Antonio say from outside the room. “What is it? What’s wrong with it?”

“Well...” Lovino dragged. “It doesn’t fit me right.”

“Really?” Antonio whined. “After all that...”

“Hey!” Lovino snapped. “I want to look good for this, damn you!”

“Of course Lovi, I want you to look good too, whatever makes you comfortable... I’m just a bit, well, tired...”

Lovino let out a breath through his nose. That was understandable, as they had been wandering around for a little more than two hours. For not being used to long shopping sprees, Antonio was holding up rather well.

“You need to go out with Belg– uh, Emma more. She likes to shop. Maybe I should have invited her instead! You have yours already, and she’s way better at this.” Lovino sighed, putting his hands on his hips and seeing how it looked.

“Yeah, probably. Let me see it, I really thought this would be the one!” Antonio insisted.

Lovino wrinkled his nose up. “Uh, no. It’s too big around my shoulders and chest, it just doesn’t–”

“Does it have a zipper?” Antonio said imploringly.

The Italian snorted. “Of course it doesn’t have a– oh.” Lovino squinted at the back. “So it does.”

“Then maybe it’s perfect!”

“Hmm.” Lovino reached back with his hands and tried grasping the small zipper. He grunted, bending a bit in his reaching. Eventually he sighed and slumped forwards, opening the changing room door and forcefully showing his back to the Spaniard. “Zip it for me.”

“O-oh!” Antonio startled. “Uh, okay!”

Lovino forced himself not to flinch when he felt Antonio’s warm fingers brush against his shoulder and neck. The Spaniard slowly zipped the dress up and Lovino felt his hands linger, but they disappeared all too soon and left Lovino feeling a little breathless.

He rolled his shoulders and blinked. The dress now felt much more comfortable. In fact, when he looked in the mirror and turned, he saw that it fit him perfectly. He glanced at Antonio, who looked starstruck. Lovino looked back at the dress. It was nice, and fit well, but there was something just off...

“I don’t like it,” he announced.

Antonio sputtered. “Why? It’s... It’s perfect!” He waved his hands at Lovino’s person for emphasis.

“No, it’s not,” he said sharply. “I like how it feels but there’s something–”

“Is everything all right over here?” a polite voice interrupted. Lovino and Antonio swiveled to see a small girl with chopped hair peeking around the corner. She wore a worker’s uniform.

“Do you have this dress in maybe another color? Or a slightly different style?” Lovino asked without missing a beat. Antonio gaped at him.

“Hmm, which one...?” the girl approached him and, at his nod, looked at the tag. “Ah! Yes, we just got a new box this morning. Um, do you want to come out back to look at them, or was there a specific color you were looking for?”

“No, I’ll look at what you have. Antonio, stay here,” Lovino said. The girl gave Antonio a quick, awkward smile before rushing off, Lovino following her.

Antonio shuffled his feet, feeling suddenly awkward. He thought that Lovino would be a bit more shy in a dress. When Antonio had learned about the all-dresses dance that Francis was organizing with Poland, he was excited to go, but he was also shocked when all Lovino had against it was looking like they were dating (which felt like a needle to the heart, but nonetheless).

When Lovino had asked him to go shopping with him to find a dress, Antonio just about fainted. His overreaction caused Lovino to flush and claim that it “wasn’t that big of a deal, bastard!”.

The Spaniard frowned absentmindedly. Lately, they had both been rather red around one another. Antonio knew his end was because... well, he had a crush–well, it was bigger than a crush, more than that, but he felt... romantic inclination. Towards Lovino.

A lot of romantic inclination.

However, Antonio doubted it was the same on Lovino’s end. He most likely just got annoyed and irritated with him a lot. At least, he mused, Lovino still wanted to be his friend.

In the back room, the girl was holding up various dresses for Lovino to look at.

“I think this would match your skin tone perfectly,” she hummed in thought, holding it up for him to see.

He scrutinized it. “Yeah, but the waist would look strange on me, maybe a different style?”

She turned the dress and nodded, saying, “Oh, I see what you mean. I think there’s one back here...” she said, looking at a different rack. “So what’s the occasion?”

“Just a dance some friends are throwing together,” Lovino said. He didn’t mind telling a stranger about it. It was the people he knew he was going to see again he cared about.

“Oh, how fun! Are you going with your friend?” she asked, moving a bit further into the racks of dresses.

“Yeah, I am. I mean–” he coughed. “I’m not with him if that’s what you mean. He isn’t my boyfriend.”

“Ah. Well, it’s fun to go with friends, anyway.” She came back out with three different dresses in her hands. “I found some with the same color tone that you were looking at, but without the same fabric style on the waist.”

“Oh, yes, thank–” he stopped, staring at one of the options. It was a shimmering black color that faded into a deep red. It appeared very empowering and his eyes shone as he reached for it. “–you...” he finished breathily.

He barely heard her saying he could try it on behind some fabric in the back room before he was ushered there and left alone. There wasn’t much privacy, but there were racks of clothing and accessories blocking his view of anything else. He trembled as he stepped into the dress, handling it as if it were made of glass.

He looked down at himself when the dress was mostly on. “Er, excuse me, I need, uh...”

“Is it on?” she asked from behind the clothes. He made a sound of affirmation and she peeked around. Her eyes widened in understanding. “Yes! I mean, I can help you with the rest!”

She stepped up and adjusted a few things, zipping the back and straightening the shoulder. She walked to his front and looked him up and down, a contemplative expression on her face. A few more pinches and pulling and she stepped back, a satisfied smile gracing her features.

Then her face turned a bit pink. “Uh...” she stuttered. “I– sorry, I just wanted to uh, straighten it and–”

“It’s fine,” Lovino said, cutting her off. After he asked if there was a mirror to see for himself how it looked and she brought him to a floor-length mirror. He walked in front of it and forgot how to breathe.

“Oh,” he whispered, looking from his body to his reflection. Inexplicably, his eyes started welling up, and Lovino swiped at his eyes in frustration. “I...”

“It’s beautiful...” the girl murmured. He could only nod mutely.

“I... I want to show Antonio,” he stuttered out.

“Okay!” she said, still a bit caught up in the moment. She started moving a few things out of the way. She gestured with her hand and they walked out of the back room and into the main store. They carefully moved to the changing rooms where Antonio was awkwardly shuffling his feet.

“Toni,” Lovino said softly. The Spaniard turned to see him and gaped when his eyes landed on the Italian.

“I think I like this one.”

Antonio blinked a few times before cautiously approaching him, raising his arms to lightly hold Lovino’s elbows. A smile slowly worked its way onto his face as Antonio looked him up and down, causing Lovino to feel heat creeping up his neck and to his ears.

“I love it,” Antonio said in the same tone as Lovino. “Can I... can I hug you?”

Lovino blinked at the oddity of his words. Antonio never asked for a hug. He just went for it, all out, sometimes swinging him around in happiness...

“I just, don’t want to ruin the dress,” Antonio explained hastily when Lovino’s confused expression lasted a few seconds too long.

“It should be fine! As long as you’re careful!” the girl said, startling the two a bit. They had forgotten that she was there, in all honesty. She noticed and flushed, stepping away to give them a bit of privacy.

Antonio smiled down at Lovino, softer than his usual beams, and Lovino felt time start to slow down. If he didn’t know any better, Lovino thought that Antonio was about to kiss him.

Instead, Antonio leaned forward and carefully wrapped his arms around Lovino’s torso, gingerly tightening his hold. Lovino felt Antonio’s warmth wrap around his body and he leaned into the touch, burying his head in Antonio’s shoulder and wrapping his own arms around the Spaniard.

They stood like that for a minute, neither particularly wanting to move. Eventually, Lovino pulled away, once he felt his face cool down enough to look Antonio in the face without feeling unending embarrassment. Antonio brushed his thumb over Lovino’s face before finding himself and stepping away, his own blush starting to overtake his face.

They looked away from one another, and Lovino felt a peculiar want to start whistling to appear inconspicuous. His eyes found the worker, who was trying to keep herself busy but was obviously not doing anything, and he called her over. “This is the one I want.”

“Okay,” she said, smiling. “Do you need any help getting out of the dress...?”

“Just with the... the zippers,” he said, stumbling on his words for some reason. She nodded and the two moved their way to the back, where she would wrap the dress for taking it home. Lovino felt Antonio’s gaze follow him.

The two of them were quiet until they were in the car, dress carefully laid out and the key in the ignition.

“Your colors match my dress,” Antonio said in the growing silence. Lovino twitched. He hadn’t even noticed. “You helped me find my... flamenco dress, and...”

Lovino felt that familiar heat start to settle on his cheeks. “That doesn’t mean anything, bastard...” he muttered. After that, words failed him and the two fell into another round of silence. Antonio slowly turned the gas on and pulled out into the street. The rumbling of the engine filled the car.

Lovino bit his lip and looked out the window, watching the scenery pass by. He couldn’t help but wonder... if he was this much of a mess merely dress shopping with the stupid country, then how was he going to handle the dance itself?

[feuilledrabbles]

Main Pairing: PruAme

Alfred narrowed his eyes at his reflection. Mathias was in the hospital, so it was just him and Gilbert for a few days. Of course, this was not good on his… well, his unhealthy crush on his best friend. They were going to do all of the things they usually did as a trio, but they were going to do it… alone.

When Alfred complained to his brother about it, Matthew told him he was being melodramatic and to suck it up.

After running his hands carefully through his hair one last time (it would undoubtedly get mussed within minutes), he straightened his clothes. He shoved his phone in his pocket and jumped down the stairs, nearly tripping on the last two but catching himself on the railing.

“Mattie!” Alfred called to his brother with a broad grin on his face. Matthew turned to him with a raised eyebrow, the little smartass.

“Yes, Al?” He questioned, making it obvious he did not care one bit about what Alfred was about to say.

“I’m chilling with Gil in ten.” He plopped himself down on the couch next to his brother, staring at the TV blankly.

“Why in ten minutes? Why aren’t you leaving now?” Matthew suggested.

Alfred snorted. “Your girlfriends are coming over, aren’t they? Chill, I’m not gonna be here for long. Because he has to do something with his brother.”

Matthew narrowed his eyes at his brother, studying his posture. Then he leaned forwards and tapped him on the shoulder. “Al?”

“Yeah Mattie?” Alfred shot his brother a weak side smile and Matthew’s eyebrows furrowed even further.

“Are you okay?”

“Uh… fine, why?”

Matthew tapped on his lips in thought. “No, you’re not. Is this about… oh my god, is this about your crush?”

Alfred froze. “Uh-”

“Al,” Matthew warned.

“Yeah… yeah, it is. I just…” Alfred ran his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit he could never rid himself of. His hair was, once again, untidy.

“Al, I didn’t know-” Matthew sighed and moved closer to his brother, pressing against his arm comfortingly. “I didn’t know you were so insecure about this.”

Alfred shot him a helpless glance.

Matthew steeled himself. “If it’s this bad, you should probably tell him-”

“No!” Alfred shouted on impulse, startling Matthew away from him. “No,” he continued softer. “It would completely ruin our friendship. Can you imagine? We wouldn’t be able to hang out anymore… and do you know what that would do to Mathias? He would be devastated that his best friends weren’t best friends anymore… and you know I can’t do that to Mathias of all people, he’s had enough heartbreak to last a lifetime.”

Matthew shifted his hand so he was rubbing Alfred’s back, something their mother used to do to comfort them. “Okay,” he started in his naturally soft voice. “You don’t have to tell him yet. But Al, make sure you aren’t hurting anyone by keeping quiet, okay?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

Matthew thought for a moment. “Sometimes you get so wrapped up in yourself that you forget about those around you.”

Alfred turned away and nodded sagely. He knew that his brother was being intentionally hurtful, but it still stung hearing that sometimes he was so selfish that he couldn’t see past his own ego.

“You aren’t selfish, Al.” Matthew bit his lip as he said so- he knew it wasn’t completely true, but his brother needed a pick-me-up. “You just get so worried about hurting other people that you don’t realize that- oh, maple, I’m not helping any, am I?”

Alfred laughed. “Nah, you’re fine. Thanks anyway, bro. I’m feelings lots better!” He plastered an obviously fake grin on his face, beaming at nothing.

“Relax, Al.” Matthew receded back to his former position. “Just relax.”

Alfred drew a shaky breath and smiled, this one smaller but more genuine. “I’ll try.” He pushed himself to his feet. “Well, I better get going! Have fun with your girls!”

Matthew snorted. “If they stop arguing for three seconds I just might. See you later.”

“Bye!” Alfred shoved his shoes on and bounded out the door, breathing in the cool air. He walked with a spring in his step all the way to Gil’s house. He tried to door and found it locked. He didn’t hesitate to pound on his best friend’s door, shoving his hands in his pockets and shifting while he waited.

When the door finally opened he opened his mouth to jokingly complain about how “Man, took you long enough!” when he realized it wasn’t his favorite albino.

“Oh, hey Ludwig! Long time no see, how’s it hangin?” his smile was different than the one that was to be directed at Gilbert, more of a side grin, like it was hanging off of his face by one hinge.

“Alfred. Gilbert said you would be coming. He’s in the shower, I forced him to take one before anything else…” Ludwig sighed in a way that made Alfred question if he really was the younger brother. “Come in, make yourself at home… avoid the kitchen for now, though.”

“‘Kay!” Alfred flounced into the house and ignored Ludwig’s latter warning, curiosity forcing him to peek in the kitchen. It looked like a tornado had flown through while all of the ingredients for baking were out. There were eggs dropping to the floor, milk puddling on the counters, and dry powder covering nearly every cabinet and surface.

“Woah,” he breathed, leaning around the doorway. “What happened?”

“Gilbert happened,” Ludwig brushed by him and Alfred smelled the fresh scent of soap, leading him to believe that Ludwig had also just showered, most likely as a result of the trashed kitchen. Ludwig started the lengthy process of cleaning and Alfred fidgeted at the doorway.

After a few seconds of deliberation he stepped into the kitchen and picked up a rag, starting to wipe the cabinets down. It took a solid minute before Ludwig even noticed he was still there, but once he did, he protested instantly.

“This isn’t your house nor your mess, you don’t have to help--”

“Nah, it’s all good! I’d be bored anyway,” Alfred said reassuringly, carefully avoiding an egg on the floor. “Where are your mops?”

Ludwig reluctantly told him where the cleaning supplies are, and Alfred cheerfully grabbed them. The two of them have made a notable dent in the mess by the time Gilbert comes down.

“Yo, Alfie! When’d you get here?” His hair was still wet and his t-shirt was sticking to his body.

Alfred swallowed and turned his gaze to the counter, where he was wiping some milk up. “A couple minutes ago.”

“He’s been here for a solid ten minutes at least, Gilbert, what took you so long?” Ludwig eyed him scrutinizingly and Alfred winced slightly.

“Ahah, sorry, man.” Gilbert then took in what was actually going on and he narrowed his eyes. “Luddy, bro, you’re making him clean?”

“No!” Alfred interjected before Ludwig could get a word in edgewise. “I decided to help, ‘cause I would be bored otherwise.”

Gilbert blinked at him. “You’re weird.”

Alfred snorted, putting the rag down. “You just figured that out?”

Gilbert cracked a smile and walked over, taking the rag from his hands and chucking it at Ludwig, who just barely caught it. Ludwig glared at Gilbert, who didn’t notice and threw his arms around Alfred, pulling him away from the kitchen.

“Oh-kay, now that we’re away from that lameness.” They stopped in the living room and Gilbert removed his arm (much to Alfred’s chagrin). “What do you want to do?”

Alfred shrugged. “We could try to freak out the convenience store owner again.”

“Nah,” Gilbert snickered but denied him. “I don’t think we can top the lighters and bug spray while wearing scorched clothes.”

“True, true…” Alfred pretended to stroke his non-existent beard. “Hmm. I got nothing.”

“I know!” Gilbert exclaimed. “Let’s go swimming in the lake!”

“Dude.” Alfred stared at him. “It’s like, 40 degrees outside.”

“40 degre…?” Gilbert blinked at him before laughing. “Oh! Alfred, you’re so american!”

He realized his mistake and rolled his eyes, ignored the heat that he felt rush to his face. “Shut up! I meant, four degrees or whatever the hell it is you europeans say!”

Gilbert laughed. “Anyway,” he said, quieting somewhat. “So what?”

Alfred thought about it for a second before shrugging. “Meh. Let’s go, we’ll stop by my house to grab a suit. We’re going to that hidden spot, right? With the swing!” Alfred ended his sentence with a yell as Gilbert rushed off to find his own swimsuit.

Gilbert yelled an affirmative back at him and Alfred swung his arms, trying not to think about how they would be shirtless and very, very alone.

And cold and wet. That too.

You could warm each other up-- he shut that thought down before it got anywhere, not wanting to get his hopes up.

Too late, he touched his face and felt the warmth of his cheeks on his fingers. Shit.

“Ready? Let’s go!” Gilbert jumped down the last two stairs and pushed the front door open, donned in a swimsuit and the same tight cotton shirt from before. Alfred followed, hesitating only slightly.

They sprinted to Alfred’s house and scared the living hell out of Arthur, his cousin, before bolting to the lake. A few years back Mathias, Gilbert, and Alfred had found a hidden alcove with a small cliff to jump off of (into deep water, it was completely safe and also not the cliff that Mathias had broken a bone on) and trees to attach ropes to. Ropes and swings.

They had to slow down to cross a street, and once they had crossed it, Gilbert yelled, “Race you to the hideout!”

Alfred won. He was a former track prodigy, and was the best sprinter in the county (maybe even country). Of course, that was when they lived in Italy for a few years, when before that they had been in America… and Canada…

“Damn…” Gilbert panted, leaning on his knees. Alfred had his shoulder leaning on a tree and was breathing heavily, staring at the canopy. “Damn, Alfred… you’re… fast…”

A smile brushed by his lips but he said nothing, eyes still pointed at the sky. He risked a glance at Gilbert and instantly loved and regretted it. Gilbert’s face was red with exertion and he was heaving deep breaths of air, his chest moving with each inhale and exhale. He had taken his shirt off at some point and his pale skin gleamed in the speckled light through the leaves of the trees.

Alfred forced his gaze to the sky again, blinking to try to get the image of Gilbert out of his mind. Shit, shit…

“Woo… wow, I did not know you were that fast! Awesome!” Gilbert laughed, straightening. Alfred snickered with him and made a few snide comments while taking his shirt off, to which Gilbert responded accordingly.

“Jumping off that cliff’s gonna be cold as fuck,” Alfred said, a mix of hesitation, annoyance, and regret in his voice.

“Bet,” Gilbert said challengingly.

Alfred glared at him. “Fuck you.”

“Are you taking it, or not?” Gilbert raised his eyebrows, obviously mocking him.

“I never said I wasn’t,” Alfred muttered in annoyance. He eyed the cliff, noting Gilbert making chicken noises behind him. He shot Gilbert one last glare before running to the cliff, building up his momentum and leaping. He flipped Gilbert the bird midair, and he heard the albino’s cackle before he was engulfed in water.

Instantly his muscles froze up and he could barely even think. The only thing his brain could do was scream cold! Cold! Holy shit! This is not normal! Shit! The shock was too much for his system to handle, and his movement shut down, causing him to start to sink.

The need to breathe started pushing past the freezing feeling he had and he pushed to the surface frantically, the frigid water not making it any easier to swim. His fingers breached the surface and his head followed shortly after. He heaved air into his lungs, his eyes bright and clear.

“Shit! Alfred!” Gilbert was at the edge of the water, at the base of the cliff. His eyes were wide. “Dude!”

Alfred tried to say something but choked on water. He instead focused his effort on swimming over to the edge, where Gilbert stood. Upon reaching it, he flopped onto the rock with Gilbert’s help and took deep breaths. Gilbert’s hands were flitting around him and he was letting out a high pitch humming noise, which betrayed his genuine nervousness and worry.

“Holy shit that’s cold,” Alfred said quickly, turning to his back and facing upwards. He had a shit-eating grin on his face and Gilbert kicked him.

“I thought you died!” he said, a hint of hysteria in his voice. The german took a deep breath to calm himself, then settled a glare on Alfred. “What the hell, man? Not awesome, okay?”

A bubble of laughter started in his chest and spilled out of his lips, and Alfred started laughing so hard his stomach hurt. Gilbert looked at him with concern and Alfred’s giggles slowly started dissipating.

“Gil…” Alfred said, a few giggles still escaping him. “I felt like I almost died.”

“And you’re laughing about that?” Gilbert exclaimed, his former hysteria coming back.

“No, no!” Alfred sat up and waved his hands, shivering slightly. “It’s just… this whole situation…” he tried to make a point with obscure hand gestures. “It’s crazy.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not jumping off that cliff,” Gilbert said, narrowing his eyes at the offending piece of rock.

“You’re getting in the water, though,” Alfred said, dipping his toe in again. It seemed warmer than before and he started sliding back in when Gilbert grabbed his arm.

“You literally almost drowned and you’re going back in?”

The incredulous tone of his voice made Alfred snicker. “I didn’t almost drown, ya drama queen. I’m fine. Get in, the water’s fine!” He slid all the way back in and shivered. While it seemed warmer, he still felt the cold seeping into his bones.

Gilbert tapped the water with his foot and withdrawed it swiftly. “Shit, no! That water’s cold as ice!”

“This was your idea, shithead,” Alfred reminded him. He tried treading water and, when he didn’t want to die instantly (though it was pretty close), pushed further away from the edge. Gilbert tested the water again and scowled at it.

“C’mon, coward, just get in the water!” Alfred taunted. Gilbert glared at him and he smiled cheekily.

“Ohhh shit. Jesus Christ save me now,” Gilbert bemoaned as he sat down and stuck his legs in. He hesitated on getting the rest of his body submerged, so Alfred slide over and grabbed his arm, pulling him in.

Gilbert let out a pterodactyl screech and flailed his arms. He smacked Alfred in the face with his askew arms, but it barely hurt, and Alfred felt proud and successful when he finished dragging Gilbert into the water.

His best friend’s head popped back up and he gasped. His eyes were wide with the shock of the water and he floundered for a few seconds before finding his footing on the edge.

“You fucker!” he exclaimed, gasping. Gilbert tried to pull himself out of the water, but Alfred wrapped his arms around the lanky german’s middle and pulled him back in.

He laughed loudly as Gilbert thrashed and cursed his name to the winds. His laughter was cut off when Gilbert shoved his face underwater, and they scuffled as best they could while swimming. Their hands were sliding against skin and it was difficult to get purchase, but they managed to dunk each other a good amount of times before they were both too tired to continue.

“I’m done,” Alfred chattered, making his way to the edge slowly.

“Your lips are blue,” Gilbert said humorously. “Looks like you can’t handle the cold, loser.”

Alfred looked back at him and said, “Your lips are blue too, moron.”

“Aw damnit, really?” Gilbert touched his lips with his frozen fingers. “Shit.”

The two of them climbed out of the water and sat on the rocks shivering. They pulled their shirts on but mournfully realized that they had neglected to bring towels.

“It’s col-l-ld,” Alfred muttered, wrapping his arms around himself. “We sh-should get ba-a-ack.”

“I think I’m warming up okay…” Gilbert murmured, rubbing at his arms. Alfred shot him a glance. “It’s my awesome prussian blood,” he joked.

Alfred snorted. “I was b-born in Fl… Florida.”

“Ha!” Gilbert laughed loudly and jeered, “Weeeeaaak.”

“Shut up!” Alfred muttered, rubbing faster at his arms. They sat in silence for a few more moments. Alfred felt Gilbert’s scrutinizing gaze on him.

“We should hang at my place. Have you seen I am Legend before?” he said suddenly. “It’s got that one famous black dude in it.”

Alfred sniffed. “No. Morgan Freeman?”

“No, he’s younger… uh, Will-”

“Will Smith?” Alfred interrupted.

“Yeah,” Gilbert nodded absentmindedly. “You’ll like it. It’s an american film, got the whole zombie thing going and everything.”

“It’s a zombie movie? Those are so generic,” Alfred said. He hated how whiny his voice sounded, but he was cold and wet and frankly felt like he had a right to complain.

“Well, sort-of. It’s different than just ‘zombies’, uh… you’ll just have to wait and see.” Gilbert started tugging him along. “C’mon, I’m not dragging you there.”

Alfred made a dramatic noise in the back of his throat and followed him stiffly, feeling like cold molasses. It was slow going, much slower than when they came, and they were both getting annoyed with how unreactive their limbs were.

“Oh my god we’re here,” Gilbert sighed in a ‘finally’ tone. They stumbled through the threshold and collapsed into a pile on the doormat, both groaning. Ludwig looked up from his place on the couch, one eyebrow raised. He wordlessly stood with his laptop and disappeared up the stairway.

The two untangled themselves to move from the floor to the couch. Gilbert slouched into the cushions and Alfred slumped right next to him. He told himself that it was for body warmth.

They were pressed right up against each other.

“Jesus, you’re cold,” Gilbert murmured. After a moment he wrapped his arms around Alfred and pulled the american closer. “Gotta warm you up.”

Alfred sputtered and felt himself turning red. “I-!” Gilbert cocked his head.

“Y’know…” he started, leaning in closer to Alfred, a playful smile on his face. “Your lips are still blue.”

“They are?” Alfred asked, puzzled. He reached up and touched his lips, and they weren’t ice, by any means.

“Yeah,” Gilbert got closer to his face and Alfred froze like a deer in headlights. His gaze flickered from Gilbert’s eyes to his lips and back again. “I’d better… warm them up…” he breathed, the warm puff of air brushing Alfred’s cheeks.

Alfred’s mind started running a mile a minute, trying to figure out the situation, when he felt a pair of lips press against his own. They were soft, like velvet, and comfortingly warm.

His brain short-circuited and he sat rigid, unmoving.

Holy shit, Gilbert’s kissing me!

Eventually Gilbert pulled away, obviously disappointed or upset that Alfred hadn’t moved. A flash of regret swept through the albino’s face and he leaned back.

“Uh… I guess I read that wrong…” Gilbert muttered, averting his gaze. “Damn… sorry, I gue--”

Before he could finish his sentence Alfred jumped forward, grasped Gilbert’s face between his hands, and smushed his lips against Gilbert’s. Less than a second later Gilbert reciprocated. Their mouths moved against one another in synchrony, and Alfred’s hands tangled into Gilbert’s hair. Gilbert was pushing them closer together by Alfred’s shoulders, as close as they could get.

Alfred almost forgot about a certain thing called breathing, and when they broke apart they were both panting. Alfred leaned forwards and pressed his forehead against Gilbert’s, staring into his red eyes.

Gilbert’s face shifted into a smirk. “Do you feel warmer now?”

“Yeah,” Alfred laughed softly, then moved to burrow his face in the crook of Gilbert’s shoulder, like he had dreamed of doing for quite some time. “But I’ll be even warmer if you cuddle with me during the movie.”

“I dream of doing nothing else,” Gilbert said, reaching over Alfred’s shoulder to grab the remote. Then his eyes sparkled mischievously and he said, “Well, I do dream of something else, but that’s for a later date.”

Alfred let out a puff of amused laughter and tried to cuddle further into Gilbert’s embrace. “Pervert.”

“Pervert?” Gilbert snickered. “Do you want to see how much of a pervert I can--”

“Shut up,” Alfred said, laughter in his words. He moved his hand to cover Gilbert’s mouth. “Turn the tv on and cuddle with me.”

Gilbert kissed Alfred’s hand and did as he was told, smiling as his unusually romantic action caused Alfred’s face to turn pink. In a spur of the moment decision he leaned forwards and placed another kiss on Alfred’s cheek, causing him to flush darker. “As you wish.”

[feuilledrabbles]

Part I , Part II 

yeet @francis-the-fuckface 

Arthur stared at his computer, clicking at a few things and screaming internally. Why was he so awkward when it came to things that mattered?

The man behind the register, who was making his tea, who had made his tea a week ago with the words “dead inside” on them in what Arthur was positive was not his natural handwriting… was unfairly good looking.

Arthur supposed that he liked his fiery hair the best. It was not everyday one saw such natural beauty (at least, Arthur thought it was natural… how would he ask without seeming rude?).

His computer beeped at him through his headphones and he focused back on his work, a slight flush coming to his face as his folk library started loading up. He hadn’t meant to ask- Allistor, Arthur swore he had read on the nametag- his favorite music. He just wanted to know his name, but Arthur had realized halfway through that his name was quite literally displayed for everyone to see. Hence, Arthur blurted the first thing he thought of.

He jumped slightly when a hand tapped him on the shoulder and he peered up at a smirking redhead, who placed a mug of steaming tea directly beside Arthur’s laptop.

“One tea fer…” he trailed off pointedly then, raising an eyebrow in expectation.

“Arthur. My name is Arthur.”

“Allistor,” he introduced, pointing to his nametag with a single finger. “Finish whatever essay yeh were working on?”

Arthur scrunched his face up slightly in confusion. Essay? When had he been working on an essay? Not for the past month or so, he was sure.

“Last week,” the man prompted. “Yeh came in at around three in the mornin’.”

“Mm,” Arthur considered while trying not to snap at the man for sounding condescending. He remembered that night, he was so exhausted the next day, but his project had been finished. He also remembered Allistor’s smirk. “Oh! I wasn’t doing an essay.” Arthur scoffed.

“Oh?” Allistor raised an eyebrow challengingly. “Then what were yeh doin’?”

Arthur swelled. “I was making music!”

A breath of air escaped Allistor in amusement. “Making music?”

“Yes!” Arthur stared at him then, all former feelings of embarrassment or awe gone like mist in the morning. “If you’re so doubtful, look. I am working on my newest project.”

Allistor blinked at the computer being shoved in his face and he examined the screen. “Yer next project is folk music?”

Arthur felt his ears start to grow hot in embarrassment. “Of course, is that not what you are looking at right now? This is an old song I wrote for fun, wordless. Here’s one from three months ago with words, never got anyone to-”

“So this doesn’t have anything to do with yer question from earlier?” Allistor asked, amusement leaking into his tone.

“No!” Arthur denied heatedly. He screamed internally; why hadn’t he changed the screen before? His newest project was about utilizing modern autotune to remix a classical piece, not to create a folk song in any way shape or form!

Arthur froze. Remixing a classical piece into a folk-ish sound with computer instruments… that was not a bad idea.

“Allistor!” A sharp voice snapped.

Allistor stiffened. “Comin’!” he called back hastily. Before he left, however, he turned back to Arthur and said, “Absolute pleasure making yer acquaintance, Mr. Arthur, who is above writing essays.”

“Whom, and right back at you, Allistor, whom has the girliest handwriting I have seen yet,” Arthur shot back within a beat, already staring at his computer screen again. He could have sworn that he heard a snicker from the scot as he rushed back to his job.

Arthur bit his lip and tapped furiously, suddenly struck with inspiration.

[feuilledrabbles]

denmano wingtalia au

blep

--

Mathias jumped to his feet and shouted at the top of his lungs. Just above him was a shining figure clothed in gold, white, and touches of red. Their wingspan blotted out the sun at one point upon their descent.  

Lovino sighed in annoyance, the sound a little strange coming from the mouth of such a prestigious looking creature. He landed gracefully and approached Mathias daintily, carefully maneuvering his wings above the dirt-covered ground.

Mathias could barely wait and he launched himself in the direction of Lovino, throwing his arms around the winged man exuberantly. "Lovino! You're back!"

"I'm back," Lovino replied gruffly, only pretending to hesitate to wrap his own arms around Mathias. "I told you it wouldn't be that long."

Mathias twitched and retracted h is arms, running them over Lovino's shoulders and biceps. "Vino... you said not that long, I didn't think it would be... six months..."

"Six months?" Lovino blinked at the blond. "It wasn't six months."

Mathias laughed bitterly and moved his hands to lightly grasp Lovino's forearms. Lovino furrowed his brows slightly and Mathias said, "Lovino, I counted every day, every week, every month. It has been six months and four days since you left."

"I..." Lovino didn't seem to know how to respond to that, and he looked about him to solidify Mathias's claim. Instead of the warm colors of spring, of May, the trees were littered with darkly colored leaves. There was a blanket of fallen leaves covering the earth.

Mathias gently rubbed Lovino's cheek at the lost look on the avian's face. Eventually Lovino turned to face the man, grasping his face between his hands and staring into Mathias's eyes. Mathias started slightly at the sudden movement.

"Mathias, I swear to you, I was unaware of the length of time that had stretched. I knew it had been longer than anticipated, but..."

"I understand..." Mathias sighed and leaned into Lovino's touch. "I don't like it, but I get it. I know that time seems different over there... and I know about your responsibilities. This is forbidden and all, right?" Mathias smiled weakly. "Me being a human."

Lovino visibly winced and took a step back, leaving Mathias leaning into thin air. "Yes, this is technically forbidden... but, we have discussed that wonderful topic too many times, let us speak of something else."

Mathias's eyes brightened, if only somewhat, at Lovino's rare but beautiful optimism. "Your wish is my command, oh mighty angel."

Lovino groaned, rolling his eyes to the sky in amusement. "I told you, I am not an angel. I may have wings but there is so much baggage with the term."

"Oh, I know." Mathias winked at the avian cheekily. He started pulling Lovino towards his home by his wrist and Lovino allowed himself to be carted in that direction. "But to me, you're as angelic as they come."

Lovino felt his ears start to turn red and he looked away, smiling slightly at the sound of Mathias's tinkling laughter. This may be forbidden, but he was the happiest he had been in a long time, and Lovino was not going to easily give this up.

--

Lovino was frozen with anger and humiliation, balling his fists. His feathers moved with his emotions and he did nothing to halt the furious movement of his wings.

"Lovi-" Feliciano cried out, reaching out with his slender hand. He couldn't reach through the bars that kept everyone out of the court except for Lovino, a few guards, and the Supreme Ruler. Nobody knew the name of the Supreme Ruler (or his co-rulers) and he was known only as Rome. Even to his family, he was known only as Rome. Lovino's namesake, coincidentally.

"Romano Italy Lovino. You have broken one of our strongest laws without reproach. This is a heinous crime and you will pay for your actions with, as the law dictates..." Rome started firmly but he stopped and was unable to finish the sentence.

Lovino hated his title. He hated his title, his life- no, he did not hate his life. If it were not for his crash landing in the ravine and breaking his hallow-boned wing he would have never met Mathias.

He was very glad he met Mathias.

"I..." Rome trailed off. With a wave of his hand the bars that Lovino's family, friends, enemies, the entire village of Europa watched through solidified and opaqued until they were a solid wall. Lovino knew that they were now soundproof as well.

"Romano, I..." Rome looked at a loss for words. "I do not understand. You have always been... coarse, but I never would have thought you would stoop to such a level."

"Stop." Lovino took a breath and stared his grandfather in the eye. "Stop right there. With my crime you should not be using my title but as my grandfather you should have never done so anyway. My name is Lovino, my title Romano. Italy, the family name, one of the only family names, I got from you, Rome Italy. My grandfather, who's name I have never known.

"My title is nothing. And you speak so lowly of the humans, continuing the false witches tales and keeping hawks out for safety. I do not know all of the humans, but it is not so black and white as I was taught! There is more than just evil among the humans!"

"I see," Rome said gravely, his worry-filled eyes hardening. "You are naive, Lovino, to both forsake your title and to embrace the humans so fully. They will harm you. I have warned the flock of this many times, yet you still throw away my law. For this you will be ultimately punished. For you have not only disgraced the flock, but you have disgraced the family name. You are no longer part of Europa and you are to be no longer called Romano Italy."

"Great. Stripping me of my titles matters not. I hated being an Italy, and I hated being Romano. Down with the human, with... with a friend, I finally felt wanted," Lovino spat.  

"Lovino. You do not understand. By breaking this law you do not have to suffer by being cast out of the flock and sent to live with the humans. That would be redundant, after all." Rome's eyes were chilled as that of a general. Lovino had not seen these for some time, and never directed at him. "No, Lovino. The punishment for this is death."

His blood turned cold. Lovino was not a particularly positive person but for the first time in his life, he had a reason to live.

And that reason was in a different prison for questioning about Lovino himself. Lovino was most likely not going to see him again before Lovino was... executed.

"I..." Lovino gulped in air, his throat closing up. "What of... Mathias?"

"Mathias?" Rome said distastefully. "Is that the name of the human you were cavorting with? Well, I suppose he'll be killed to, he knows too much about our kind."

"No!" Lovino exploded, his vision turning black for a split second. "Mathias can't be killed, he doesn't deserve it!"

"That is your own fault, Lovino. You knew that there would be consequences for dealing with a human," Rome reminded him.

"Mathias didn't do anything! He saved my life, you should be rewarding him! He has a family, a job, a life that he loves, you can't take that away! You can't take-" Lovino choked, the next sentence coming out in a whisper, "the best thing that's ever happened to me... away..."

Rome's wings rose and spanned out behind him. His large wingspan had never seemed so intimidating. "We can take away whatever we wish to take away, especially the life of a human."

Lovino fell to his hands and knees, vision blurring as he stared, terrified, at the ground. Rome approached his trembling figure and leaned in close.

"You made the bed. Now lie in it."

--

Mathias wasn't sure what exactly was going on, but he was certain about one thing: these creatures had the coolest looking wings he had ever seen. They asked a few questions about what he knew about them, which was to say, a lot, but he did what he did best: play dumb. They gave up asking him after he answered "I mean, you guys are just angels, right?" one too many times.

The prison cell was nicer than a few he had been in before, too. It had mostly clean floors and everything was cold and sharply cut. He felt he was in a strange version of a cave, because he knew caves and this was not it.

He leaned against the stone (what he thought was stone) wall and waited. While he waited, however, he thought about Lovino. He liked thinking about Lovino.

Mathias hummed to himself and wondered what Lovino would do if he were here with him, in the prison. He would probably storm around and pout cutely about getting let out. Perhaps he would mention how awful the conditions of the cell was.

"Human. Stand," the commanding voice of one of the creatures sounded. Mathias rolled his eyes. These things were so pretentious.

"It's Mathias, thanks," he said for the fourth time in ten minutes. Despite this, he stood, and only complained a little (in the most annoying, obnoxiously loud voice he could manage) when they strapped him into a thing and carted him away to a different area.

There were other avians around him at some points and they all stared and whispered. He would have saluted the dozens of observers but his arms were restrained. All he could do was make faces, which received a funny enough response that he was satisfied.

"Human," a rather large avian said lowly. "You are the reason for Romano Italy Lovino's infringement, correct?"

Mathias channeled his inner 'Lukas' and waited patiently for the gag to be taken off his mouth (to his surprise, it didn't hurt in the least, unlike duct tape). "Well, that depends, doesn't it, sir? Mainly on what the infringement was. If the infringement--that's fun word, I should use it more--was on being happy for the first time, then yes. If the infringement was having fun and smiling more often, then I would say yes again. However, there are many cases I would have to say no. Such as, inflicting pain on others, destroying happiness, perhaps even ruining lives? No, he did not make an... infringement. But those laws aren't laws to be broken here, anyway, from what I understand of what is happening right now."

There was a beat of silence before Mathias grinned cheekily and said, "Correct?" in the same tone the imposing avian before him had used. He also thanked Lukas's many (many) lessons on speaking eloquently and using certain loopholes to his advantage. The lawyer's lessons had never been more valuable.

Eventually the avian before him sighed and leaned back. "I do not believe you understand the gravity of the situation, human--"

"Mathias," he muttered. The avian ignored him and continued.

"Because you are not going to be able to see Romano Italy again."

"I... what? Excuse me?" Mathias snapped. "You're going to ban him from seeing me? That's rich and unfair, thanks. Also, what the hell are you doing calling him Romano Italy? He hates his titles."

"I am the Supreme Ruler Rome. I have already decided both of your fates, you should not be feeling so confident."

Mathias curled his lip. "You're Rome? That explains a lot."

The avian, Rome, once again ignored him. "I digress. You, human, and Romano Italy, are not going to see the next sunrise."

There was a pregnant pause.

"You're going to kill us?" Mathias exploded. He saw red. "Just because one of your oh-so-special winged humans became b... became friends with a human? What the hell is wrong with you? This is not the Little Mermaid, this is reality!"

"You are right for once, this is reality. And the reality is that you two are going to be put to death for both of your actions," Rome said gravely.

"What! I-" Mathias was cut off when Rome gestured and a guard slammed their wing into his stomach. He yelled in surprise and pain, but after the initial yells he simply pressed his lips together and glared, not wanting to be less than prime condition for whatever may await him.

Mathias was forced to turn around and was shoved forwards. He stumbled out of the large room and caught sight of Lovino, who was being lead somewhere else.

"Lovino!" Mathais cried out, straining against the avians' tight grips. His muscles tensed and he elbowed one avian in the gut, giving him the opportunity to break free of the other avian's hold and bolt to Lovino, who had turned at the sound of his name and was gaping at him.

"Mathias?" Lovino managed.

"Vino-" Mathias reached for him and frantically brushed his hands over Lovino's shoulders, his arms, his wings, before someone (or something) slammed into him and forced him to the wall, pressing him against it harshly.

"Mathias!" Lovino shifted and pushed against the hands that held him captive. "Stop, don't hurt him! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

"Lo-" Mathias felt something crush against his windpipe and he choked. "-vin-" Something hard smashed into the back of his knees and he collapsed to the floor. His hands were re-shackled, much tighter than before, and he started getting dragged away.

He twisted hysterically and yelped in pain at a particularly harsh shove. Lovino cried out in response. "Mathias, I never meant for this to happen, I'm so sorry! This is all my fault, I-"

"Lovino!" Mathias said rapidly. "I don't regret- I would do it all over again!"

As he was dragged out the hallway with finality, Lovino swore he heard an "I will stand by you!" hanging in the air. Unfortunately, he didn't get to muse about it and was forced into the interrogation room.

Neither the captives nor the captors noticed the frozen, wide-eyed avian with brown feathered wings standing in the corner, their clipboard clenched tightly in their hands.

--

"Romano Italy?" A voice sounded from outside of his cell and Lovino scowled.

"I no longer respond to those... wretched titles," Lovino said simply, staring at the stone walls.

"Okay... Lovino, I wasn't sure if you would let me call you by your name."

"Why not? We've known each other long enough; I consider you my... er... my friend, by now," Lovino was proud to say he only stumbled over the word a bit, and he knew it was from the lessons Mathias had dubbed 'destroying denial'.

"Oh! I am... glad, but now is not really the time."

Lovino made an affirmative noise in the back of his throat and said no more. The two delved into a heavy silence, the air thick with things unsaid and their rapid moving thoughts. Eventually Lovino looked up at his companion, his eyes landing on their wings. Before he would have felt envy, but all he felt was deep-rooted sadness.

Their wings were wide and strong, coated in beautiful brown feathers of varying shades that were lined with white. They were perfect for hunting, gorgeous to a fault, and oh-so unassuming until they spread them intimidatingly. It was good for the general population that they seldom spread them intimidatingly.

"Why are you here?" Lovino finally asked, shattering the silence.

They shifted their wings awkwardly and avoided Lovino's searching gaze.

"Antonio." Lovino stated. The man looked at him, his mouth parting in surprise. Lovino rolled his eyes. "Honestly, you're acting like I'm glass."

"You don't like using my name," Antonio said, pressing his lips together and narrowing his eyes infinitesimally.

"I didn't like using your name since it has been drilled into my head to use titles. After... well, now I prefer names. It's more... human."

"We aren't human," Antonio reminded him.

Lovino bristled and turned to glare at the wall. "Do you think I don't know that?" he spat. "It's because I'm not human I am in here, jailed for speaking with someone not of our species."

Antonio moved his eyes from Lovino's figure to the two guards standing a dozen feet away. He looked the other direction and saw two more guards in similar positions. He blinked and worried his lip.

Lovino watched this with confused curiosity. Antonio tended to be an open book, so his random stares and expressions were puzzling. "Antonio, why are you here?" he asked again.

Antonio leveled his gaze with Lovino's and smiled. It was close-lipped and smaller than his usual beams. Lovino simply stared at him blankly. If he didn't know Antonio better, he would say that smile looked a little sad.

Antonio let out a controlled breath of air and stepped away from Lovino. "I... am very sorry for what I am about to do."

"What?" Lovino startled. Antonio ignored him and walked away with a quick stride, approaching the guards. Before Lovino could blink Antonio had opened one of his large wings and smashed it into the face of one of the guards, missing their flesh with his talon by a mere hand width.

Lovino, shocked, could do nothing but stare.

Antonio, using the surprise of the second guard to his advantage, brought their face down to his knee. He leaned down and pressed on both of their brachial veins on their wings, maneuvering his fingers in a way only a trained soldier could. Lovino watched, dumbfounded, as Antonio stalked past his cell again, the two guards out cold, and proceeded to down to other two, who were ready this time, but were ultimately unable to defend themselves against the strongest avian Europa had.

Lovino had known about Antonio's war background. He knew that Antonio was trained, that he was stronger than most, and that he was in actuality more deadly than anyone knew. And yet, with Antonio's common sunshine-y personality, Lovino had never thought twice about it. Now, looking at Antonio's serious green eyes, Lovino swallowed uncomfortably.

Antonio tugged at the lock. "Do you know where the keys are?"

Lovino coughed slightly. "No, I don't."

"Hmm." Antonio merely examined the lock for another second or two before carefully positioning his talon and bringing it down harshly. The metal crunched harshly and Antonio wiggled it until it released, the bars swinging open.

Lovino gaped at him. Antonio held his hand out in offering, the serious expression barely wavering. "We're going to need your speed to get Mathias out."

"Out?" Lovino said in a daze, taking Antonio's hand and following the spanish avian. "We're getting out?"

"I... yes, Lovino, we're getting him out, what did you think I was doing?" Antonio's carefully put together composure cracked slightly and his former demeanor shined through. "I cannot stand our awful justice system."

Antonio lead him down another hallway and jerked him into a room, slamming him against the wall and peeking out the doorway. Lovino yelped in surprise, twisting away from Antonio's grip. "What the hell?"

"There's a secret entrance!" Antonio smiled exuberantly, his normal personality returning. Lovino let out a silent breath of relief. He didn't know how much longer he could have handled soldier-Antonio.

"Where-?" Lovino broke off as Antonio moved a table out of the way and opened a trapdoor, beaming at Lovino. "Of course." Antonio disappeared down the trapdoor and Lovino followed, grumbling quietly under his breath.

"It's a maze down here! They made us memorize it in training, though, so I know where Mathias is being kept!" Antonio said in an upbeat tone. He walked with confident strides, unwavering in the tight confines, unlike Lovino, who felt like the walls were closing in on him.

"Here." Antonio hefted himself up and lightly pushed the trapdoor open, peering out with narrow eyes. A few seconds later he pulled himself through the trapdoor and out of sight. His head appeared in the window of light, a grin plastered on his face. "C'mon!"

Lovino furrowed his eyebrows and tried to spread his wings far enough to gain some air. There was no room, however, and he scraped a few feathers off in the process. He hissed in annoyance.

"I'll help you up, here!" Antonio leaned both of his arms through the opening and Lovino, irritated, grabbed onto his wrists and allowed himself to be brought up through the trapdoor. After he was through, missing a few more of his orange feathers in the process, Antonio shut the trapdoor and moved a bookshelf in front of it.

Antonio brushed his hands off and cocked his head to the side in thought for a few moments before he walked over to a window that was blurred. "This is Mathias's room," he pointed.

Lovino searched for a clasp. "Where does it open?"

"Here," Antonio said, pushing a latch and lifting the window out of the sill. He grunted in effort and placed it on the ground heavily, and Lovino stepped on the thick glass and squeezed his narrow shoulders as far into the windowsill as he could without dislocating his wings. His head was barely in the room, and he blinked at the all-stone room. There wasn't even hay for a bed.

He caught sight of a curled shape in the corner and paled. Mathias's breaths were hitched and he seemed to be shivering. "Mathias!" he hissed through his teeth. There was no reaction. Lovino huffed a breath of annoyance.

"Antonio, give me a rock or something!" Lovino turned his hand upright and felt a cold object press into his palm. He brought his hand to his face and stared.

"It was all I could find!" Antonio's muffled voice sounded defensive and Lovino snorted. He reached his arm out of the windowsill and chucked the candlestick and Mathias's head. Lovino's aim was spot-on and Mathias jerked, blinking his eyes blearily.

Lovino waited not-so-patiently as Mathias slowly woke, rubbing at his eyes and hair and temples. Mathias's eyes met Lovino's and he froze. Lovino brought his finger to his lips and shimmied back through the windowsill, plopping onto the ground and waiting.

A grunt sounded and Mathias heaved himself up and tried to push himself through the opening. "This is... tight."

"You should fit, without wings," Antonio commented. Mathias huffed and forced himself further. He grunted again and managed to squeeze his way through it, tumbling to the ground below. Antonio had had the foresight to move the glass of the window or Mathias would have cracked his head on it.

"Ohhhh..." Mathias moaned. "That was not fun." Lovino almost rolled his eyes when he realized that Mathias was not wearing a shirt and had scraped up his shoulders, arms, his entire torso while trying to get through the gap. It was worst on his shoulders and elbows.

"What the hell? Why aren't you wearing a shirt?" Lovino dropped to his knees and brushed his fingers over a few of the scrapes.

Mathias shrugged helplessly. "They scratched my back up and I didn't want cloth on it."

"They... what?" Lovino said slowly.

"It's not bad," Mathias denied, propping himself up until he was sitting without help. "They just wanted to see what it was like att- scratching a back not impaired by wings."

Lovino leaned around Mathias and stared, eyes darkening. It wasn't too bad, as Mathias said, but there were long talon marks down his back and across his spine. Many were across his shoulder blades.

"Lovino, we should get out," Antonio said, opening a different door that was three feet tall and hidden behind a fake plant. Lovino ignored the anger boiling in his stomach and the want to disembowel the avians that scratched up Mathias and made for the door, Mathias on his heels.

The three of them crawled through another tunnel (which did not help Lovino's growing anxiety) until there was a dip in the crawl and suddenly, Lovino was blinded. Antonio had jumped out of the gap and opened his wings, riding on air.

He followed the spanish avian and tumbled into open air, free falling for a few seconds before opening his own wings and beating them rapidly.  Lovino came up to the opening and leveled his gaze with Mathias, who was staring wide-eyed at the two avians.

"Are you going to carry him?" Antonio asked him loudly, talking over the wind. Lovino paused, then nodded. He wasn't particularly strong but he did not want to see Antonio carrying Mathias. Besides, Antonio would not be able to get close enough to the hole without losing more than a few feathers.

Mathias slowly edged himself out of the opening and Lovino carefully opened his arms, grabbing Mathias and pulling him the rest of the way out. Before they departed completely from the tunnel Lovino adjusted his grip to make both of them more comfortable and to maximize his control.

Lovino grunted and dropped a few wing lengths when he initially flew into open air, and Mathias squeaked and latched his arms around Lovino's neck. Lovino could feel his strength slowly sapping away, so he jerked with his head to signal to Antonio where he was going, then pushed himself in that direction. Eventually he streamlined, flying headfirst towards the forest.

He heard a yell and turned his head, paling at the sight of an array of guards. Antonio noticed them too and motioned for Lovino to continue. Lovino didn't think twice about it, turning back around to focus on staying constant, until Mathias tensed in his grip.

Lovino glanced behind him again and slowed in shock, dropping them another few wing lengths. Antonio was fighting the guards single-handedly, and he was quite obviously losing. However, he was managing to keep the guards from getting away towards Lovino and Mathias.

"Go, he's trying to save us, let him," Mathias whispered into his ear. Lovino shot him a betrayed look but faltered when he saw the pain reflected in the man's own eyes. Wordlessly, Lovino re-positioned himself and started up his momentum.

He glanced behind him once more to see his friend falter and fall, plummeting to the earth. A few guards went after him while the others looked around for Lovino and Mathias.

Lovino flew low into a ravine, the same ravine he had broken his wings in before, and searched for Mathias's home. The avians had not caught them at Mathias's house, so they did not know he lived there, and Lovino could not think of another place to go.

When he blinked against the wind, a few tears slipped out of his eyes.

He came upon Mathias's home and tumbled to a halt, collapsing to his hands and knees. It had been a while since he had exerted himself that much, and the old breaks in his wings were aching.

"Here," Mathias murmured, standing up and propping Lovino up with his arm. They both stumbled over their feet and supported each other all the way inside. When they were in the safety of the house Mathias slammed the door shut and faceplanted into his couch. Lovino just sank to the floor.

"I'm sorry," Mathias's muffled voice sounded from the cushions. He turned his head and met Lovino's eyes. Lovino liked Mathias's eyes. They were a beautiful blue color, the color of the sky in the north, and it was what originally captivated Lovino.

"It's..." Lovino couldn't quite say it was okay, because it really wasn't, without knowing what had happened or was going to happen to Antonio. "It's..."

"I get it. I am sorry, though." Mathias hummed to himself, searching Lovino's face. "I love you."

Lovino blinked. It was the first time either one of them had said those three fateful words, and Lovino was pleasantly surprised that he had little hesitation in saying, "I love you too," right back, paired with a small smile.

Mathias's face worked into a wide smile, and they sat there, in the aftermath of everything, in silence.

[feuilledrabbles]

Eyy for the ask thing- 1, 11 and 20!

AH THANKS FRIENDO

1. Describe yourself how you would describe a character you’re introducing. …oh , erm …

She walked into the room, blonde hair stretching to just below her shoulder blades. She went in with a confident stride but faltered at seeing the other people inside. Her face closed off and she pushed her shoulders back slightly, a million different scenarios running behind her eyes. She glanced around, an awkward expression falling on her face, and not-so-casually turned around. Her phone was out within seconds and she pretended that she had never walked into the room in the first place. 

[inspired by; when I walked into the chinese class instead of french a few days ago lol]

11. Weirdest thing you’ve ever written/thought about writing/etc.?

Um… I dunno? I’ll look through my docs to see… 

Oh jeez. I wrote a frozen fanfic with an oc fire mage … it’s… 8000+ words …

god, I wrote a lot of strange things… I have some songfics and original stories, too. 

20. 4 sentences from your work that you’re proud of

lol *leaves blank*

This entire oneshot is my pride and joy tbh but here’s an excerpt: 

“The dark-haired nation peered up at the larger blonde, examining the relaxed features of his lover. Denmark had his eyes closed, head leaning against the back of the recliner the two were curled up in. His song came to a soft end and Romano was caught staring as Denmark glanced down at the strangely quiet nation. His lips quirked into a smile and Romano’s cheeks flared red, a pout settling on his face. Denmark’s arms tightened around the Italian’s body and his smile changed into something softer.”

[feuilledrabbles]

SEND ME A SHIP and I’ll tell you:

Who said “I love you” first

Who would have the other’s picture as their phone background

Who leaves notes written in fog on the bathroom mirror

Who buys the other cheesy gifts

Who initiated the first kiss

Who kisses the other awake in the morning

Who starts tickle fights

Who asks who if they can join the other in the shower

Who surprises the other in the middle of the day at work with lunch

Who was nervous and shy on the first date

Who kills/takes out the spiders

Who loudly proclaims their love when they’re drunk

[feuilledrabbles]

Cool Asks for Fic Writers

1. Describe yourself how you would describe a character you’re introducing

2. Is there any specific ritual you go through while/before/after your writing?

3. What is your absolute favorite kind of fic to write?

4. Are there any other fic writers you admire? If so, who and why?

5. How many words can you write if you sit down and concentrate intensely for an hour?

6. First fic/pairing you wrote for? (If no pairing, describe the plot)

7. Inspiration, time, or motivation. Choose two.

8. Why do you choose to write?

9. Do you ever have plans to write anything other than fic?

10. What inspires you the most?

11. Weirdest thing you’ve ever written/thought about writing/etc.?

12. A fix you wish you had written better, and why?

13. Favorite fic from another author?

14. Your favorite side pairings to put in?

15. Your guilty writing pleasure?

16. Do you have structured ideas of how your story is supposed to go, or make it up as you write?

17. Would yo describe yourself as a fast writer?

18. How old were you when you started writing?

19. Why did you start writing?

20. 4 sentences from your work that you’re proud of

[feuilledrabbles]

woah wait, wait- the cliche where there’s a tree outside the balcony? what if, to make the palace grounds more natural or something there are trees. Makes it prettier, more O2, etc...

Anyway, Alfred is a hopeless romantic and to make it even better/to get closer Ludwig to sing, he climbs the tree. And Ludwig is a bit confused at first but then Alfred falls out of the tree and just. Lies there. In defeat. 

Ludwig is so concerned and is calling down to him like “are you okay?? do you need help ??” And Alfred has to impress the bae so he just says “I’m fine” and stumbles to his feet. it does not help Ludwig’s concern. 

Timy dorky alfred senerating Prince ludwig while Ludwig is out of his balcony his heart going fucking crazy and both of them are blushing and so fucking in love???

aisjwidjuehe i can imagine Ludwig has no idea what to do besides stare horrifyingly down at Alfred and poor Alfred thinks he hates it but really no one has ever really flirted with him before. some have given him roses but ran away after Ludwig squeezed the rose too hard because he was flustered :( and now here is this raggedy ass knight who’s not even royalty and came from who knows where and he has not run away from Ludwig’s awkward interactions and has indeed swooped Ludwig off his goddamn feet

[feuilledrabbles]

Told ya there’d be a part II

Part I

For @francis-the-fuckface (help on your exams, lol)

Allistor leaned back in his chair, the two front legs leaving the ground as he rocked himself back and forth. He raised a single thick eyebrow at the sight of his cousin in front of him, who was pacing and shaking her hands out.

Eventually he pushed forward and landed all four legs of the chair on the ground, leaning on his knees and staring at the redhead before him. “You’ll wear a rut in the floor before yeh feel calm.”

Ava glared at him and took another step forward just to spite him. “That doesn’t help me. At all.”

“C’mon, it’s just an interview.” His eyes followed her for a few more steps. “You’ll get yer hair mussed if yeh keep doin’ that.”

She paused. “Lars told me my temper would get me kicked out of all law firms.”

Allistor nodded sagely then snorted. “Lars doesn’t matter. He’s the competition, anyway. Beat him into next week, Av.”

She took a deep breath and straightened herself out, swiping all of the wrinkles out of her suit and pushing her shoulders back. “I got this.”

“Absolutely.” Allistor confirmed, eyes wandering around the room. His gaze landed on the clock and he narrowed his eyes at it, unsure why an uneasy feeling was creeping through him.

Ava glanced his way. “Don’cha have a shift right about now?”

A streak of panic shot through Allistor like a bullet. “Shit!” He scrambled to his feet and alighted out the door, oblivious to his cousin’s soft laughter and more relaxed stature.

He sprinted to the tea cafe, taking a glance at his watch every so often and muttering a slew of curses under his breath. A woman shot him a glare at his dirty mouth but he paid her no mind, too busy looking between the minute hand on his watch and the approaching sign of Britannia's Tea Café.

He swung around a pole and darted into the building, ignoring the man - who had yelped out a swear word - he had passed on the way in. Allistor stumbled into the back room and spread out his arms. “Not late!”

“No.” Astrid, the old woman who owned the cafe, hummed lowly. “Not quite.” She looked him up and down with a sharp eye. “Get changed and take the front. Ava is not coming in, I presume?”

“No, miss.” Allistor said instinctively. He was not a polite person by nature. In fact, he normally went out of his way to be impolite, just to see reactions (and out of spite). However, Astrid was a woman of great presence and grace, and deserved everyone’s respect and more.

She was also scary as hell, and one of the very few people that Allistor was genuinely scared of. Wait- make that the only person.

Nobody crossed Astrid. Those who did… well. Allistor didn’t know what had come of them. He had never seen them again.

“Sorry fer the wait, we’re low on staff right now,” Allistor said with the cheeriest voice he could manage. He hated working up front, and Astrid knew this. However, when he saw the first person in line his brain restarted.

“Oh, hello,” he said much smoother, leaning against the counter for extra effect. “And what can I get fer yeh today?”

The man with the vibrant green eyes was not impressed. “Just an Earl Grey, if you please.”

Allistor’s intrigued eyebrows dropped flat. Earl Grey? The most generic tea there ever was?

“One Earl Grey, coming right up. To go or fer here?” He straightened out. Perhaps there was some redeeming quality about this man. He did like tea, after all.

The man was quiet, gazing around the cafe. There were two other customers, the two engaged in their own life and conversation to be bothered by what was happening up front. It was quiet and the musty smell of tea leaves filled the relaxed atmosphere.

“To go or fer here?” Allistor asked again, annoyance seeping into his tone. One of his hands involuntarily came up to rest on his hip.

The man started. “Oh, for here.” He fidgeted where he stood, seeming to be stuck between two decisions.

Allistor paused in the midst of pouring water and he set the pitcher down lightly, carefully wording his next sentence. “Is there something else yeh need?”

His green eyes flickered between a table and Allistor’s gaze. “Er, not particularly. Only- well, I was wondering- er, what’s your favorite type of music?” He finally blurted out.

“Eh…” Allistor blinked a few times, caught off guard with the random question. “At the moment I’m partial to folk.”

He nodded once then turned on his heel to slump into the same chair he had been in a week or so before, pulling his laptop out of his bag and setting it onto the table, plugging some headphones in and sticking them in his ears. Allistor watched him with a smirk on his face and finished fixing the man’s drink. Whoever he was, he certainly was interesting.

[feuilledrabbles]

Once you get this you have to say five things you like about yourself, publicly. Then, you have to send this to ten of your favorite followers. (non-negotiable, positivity is cool~) 💗

HAHA NO I DIDN’T FORGET ABOUT THIS WHAAAT

also :000 I’ve seen this floating around but this is the first it’s been sent to me!

1. My hair dries pretty fast and after I shower/it dries it’s really soft / sorta silky

2. I write pretty good, I guess… I mean I like it most of the time

3. I’m politely blunt. As in, if it’s rude I’m not blunt, but I tend to speak my mind otherwise. It has solved a lot of drama/conflict before it began, lol. 

4. ummmm... I’m good at not-getting-hurt (so not many scars )

5. I’m relatively positive, especially compared to the average modern teen (stress levels on the other hand-)

[feuilledrabbles]

For @francis-the-fuckface since it’s your BIRTHDAY TOMORROW and this is a birthday present it was going to be longer but I couldn’t wait to post it so there might be a part two 

Also, I have never read scoteng let alone written it so we’ll see how accurate this is xD

Pairing: ScotEng

Allistor sighed deeply. This was probably his favorite and least favorite shift. He enjoyed people watching but also enjoyed silence. The most interesting people came by at three in the morning, but they were far and in between.

He tapped on the counter impatiently. Curse this tea cafe’s 24/7 advertising to increase business. He was one of two people working, and he was almost positive that Connor was sleeping in the supplies closet.

He felt his hand slip and he just barely stopped himself from slamming his face into the (sparkling clean) countertop. He blinked blearily and looked around, trying to find something to help him stay awake. Whenever he was bored he tended to get tired, so he had to engage himself.

Allistor reminded himself that the later night/early morning shifts were paid more.

Truthfully, what could he do? He could wash the counters for the fifth time. All of the chairs were arranged perfectly, the tables were in the right spots. The coffee (in a tea cafe, to encourage their American crowd to stop by) was ordered alphabetically and the tea was meticulously placed in order of kind, color, and look.

Allistor bemoaned about his boredom and lack of things that are interesting when the quiet bell connected to the entrance door jingled. His head shot up and he took in the disheveled form of what appeared to be a college student (they were the few that came around at this hour).

He had mussed, straw-colored hair, and green eyes drooping from exhaustion. He seemed to be a little shorter than Allistor himself and had a computer bag swinging haphazardly from his shoulders.

“Give me the strongest thing you have,” he demanded, a british accent showing through.

Allistor rolled his eyes and reached for one of the coffee’s when the man blurted out “But make it tea, not coffee!”

His respect for the rundown perhaps-college student increased tenfold. Finally, someone who appreciates tea and doesn’t only buy coffee (only to complain how it’s not like Starbuck’s heavenly concoctions. Starbucks could go fuck themselves for all Allistor cared).

“Name?” Allistor blurted on impulse, too used to asking the question. He restrained himself from grimacing; he obviously would not need a name seeing as this was the only man in the cafe.

However, when all he received was a glare and the man slouching into a chair at one of the tables, his infamous temper sparked.

He made the tea normally, since he wasn’t petty enough to change the drink that the man was paying for and possible get himself fired. However, he uncapped a sharpie (as he would normally do) and wrote on the cup “dead inside” in the most obnoxiously cursive writing he could handle (as he would not normally do). Then he put the cup next to the man and waited.

Finally he noticed after taking two- no, three sips from the cup. His green eyes blinked at the writing as if he weren’t sure that was what he was seeing, and he twisted in his seat to stare at the scottish man at the counter, who was smirking into his sorting (of the tea, for the third time).

Allistor glanced up once and caught the eyes of the exhausted college student, who raised a single eyebrow in his direction. His smirk grew ever-so-slightly wider, especially after the man turned back around with quiet huff of breath and a quirk of a smile.

He went back to whatever he was doing on his computer, and Allistor went back to entertaining himself (he wasn’t asshole enough to interrupt the obviously stressed and busy man).

Eventually the man paid and left, barely awake enough to hand Allistor the money let alone have a conversation with him, leaving a still-bored scot who spent the rest of the night thinking over the encounter.

[feuilledrabbles]

Ehem... @doodling-time-lord ... thanks for following me oh my god // you followed me and I realized how much I hadn’t posted... and this fic was inspired... ((I almost didn’t tag you but)) anyway, enjoy! 

Pairing: FrUk.

(In which Francis can see strings of fate connecting lovers). 

Francis sighed, a low, dejected sound that he felt rattle through his body. He was tired. Sleep had little to no effect on his level of exhaustion. He decided to give up on the never ending climb of sleeping often enough to look healthy. In fact, he had taken little care about his appearance at all in recent events.

He was so tired. And it was all because of those stupid, god-forsaken red strings. They haunted his every day, permeating into his brain and leaving no space for anything else. Everywhere he went, there they were. It did not matter where he was, whether in the heart of Paris or a food market in the forests of Canada.

Francis was, in his opinion, cursed. He did not remember when he could not see the strings. They were normally red, sometimes purple, occasionally black. Those were the only colors he saw.

Francis blinked slowly. His eyes were bleary but he made no attempt to focus them. Even in the midst of a scrappy bar in the outskirts of London, he could see the strings. The bartender’s was connected to the DJ’s, a faint red. They must not have met yet, or had enough time to acknowledge their love.

He normally was all for love. Francis had the nickname of Cupid, after all, among his friends.

But one could only take so much. It was beyond frustrating seeing swaths of faint red without any change. The pale color buzzed against his head like a fly he couldn’t swat.

“Pathetic.” He was forced out of his pity-party with a single word, and Francis moved his eyes to the right. Though the man’s face was twisted into it’s usual sneer, there was a certain softness to it. Why, Francis had no idea. Arthur hated him. Which was truly unfortunate, since Francis normally couldn’t help himself from being near the englishman…

“Why switch the roles now of all times?” Arthur slid into the barstool next to Francis and reached out to examine the frenchman’s drink. He took a sip and wrinkled his nose, glancing at the once-again quiet blonde to his left. He was, of course, referring to the many times Arthur had drank himself comatose while Francis diligently took him home (after many pictures and other prime teasing material).

“Francis.” Arthur prodded. “Francis, I came here because… well… uh, Gilbert and Antonio sent me. Er-”

“Matthew,” Francis muttered. “And Lovino.”

“Pardon?” Arthur stared at him, baffled. He had known that his friend was drunk, but something was going on that he didn’t understand.

Francis had fallen silent and Arthur did not pursue the topic any further. He tapped on Francis’s glass. “What is this shit?”

Francis slid his eyes towards Arthur’s, confusion starting to swim through his usually clear blue eyes.

Arthur gestured weakly towards the glass. “You’re normally rather particular about your drink, especially those of the alcoholic sort. And this swill? Even I find it horrid.” Arthur waited for the snide comment about his drinking palate, or perhaps a muttered ‘go away’.

When his friend was silent, a streak of worry and nervousness flashed through Arthur. “I may have lied earlier, neither Gilbert nor Antonio sent me, I came on my own terms. I was not expecting to see you here but I am glad I found you, honestly. You look aw- worse for wear.” He corrected his verbiage at the last second, not knowing the mental state of Francis at that moment.

He made a noncommittal tone and Arthur noted it. That meant Francis was listening, to a certain point.

“You truly cannot disappear like that, even Eliza was worried-”

“Roderich.”

Arthur blinked. What did Roderich have to do with anything?

Then he narrowed his eyes in thought. “Gilbert.”

“Matthew.”

“Antonio.”

“Lovino.”

“Ludwig.”

“Feliciano.”

Arthur stared at the frenchman. Was this all he was going to respond to? Names with different, but seemingly random, names?

Gilbert, Matthew. Antonio, Lovino. Ludwig, Feliciano. Elizaveta, Roderich.

Half, maybe more than half of those names seemed to be in a relationship… Arthur stared at the counter, thinking and habitually fidgeting with his fingers. He had a theory, but he needed to test it.

“Roderich.”

“Elizaveta…”

“Feliciano?”

“Ludwig.”

“Francis, what is going-”

“I don’t know that one.”

Arthur blinked and glanced at his companion. Francis was staring at him now, bloodshot eyes brimming with liquid. He spoke again. “I don’t… I don’t know that one.”

“What don’t you know, Francis?” Arthur prompted gently. It was probably the first time he had ever been actually, legitimately worried for the frenchman’s health. He was an insuffereable twit, and Arthur could not stand his company, but… he was a civil gentleman (at least, that is what he told himself).

Francis’s eyelids drooped and he hummed quietly in thought. He looked behind him and saw the dark black string of an angry-faced man and his heart cracked ever so slightly. “I have no… string.”

Arthur backpedaled. “String? What does string have to do with anything?”

“Strings!” Francis said angrily, sitting up just a bit. “They connect everyone! Some of the luckiest have more than one, some of the unluckiest have more than one black! And if you get purple, then you are the luckiest of them all, because the universe decided you get another goddamn chance at love!”

Arthur was so taken aback that he had no response, witty or otherwise. Francis deflated into the counter once again, bemoaning to himself. “They change. They start red… turn black sometimes, turn purple after that rarely…” the tears that had been collecting behind his eyelids started dripping down his face. “I can’t do anything about it…”

Meanwhile, Arthur was certain that his (maybe) friend had gone off the deep end. He slowly brought his phone out while casually patting Francis on the back, who was muttering to himself. Arthur brought the phone to his ears.

“Hello, this is Arthur- no, I do not- honestly, my call was not for- Gilbert, please, shut the fuck up. Your friend has near drunk himself to death, and now he’s raving about… strings?”

He listened carefully and the loud music that had been pounding through the receiver cut off and Gilbert’s formerly joking tone was dead serious (for once).

“Arthur, whatever you do, do not- and I’m not kidding here- do not rebuke him. I don’t care- hell, I could care less if you think he belongs in the looney bin, but I believe him, and he says that- hear me out you old prick, I’m not done, he says that he can see the strings between lovers.”

Arthur just about dropped the phone as his face blanched. The mutterings of Francis suddenly seemed a lot more sinister. There was so much power in knowing one’s true love. He glanced at the frenchman again, a few fearful yet curious thoughts running through his head. Were there those without strings? He assumed so, since there was a number of aromantics in the world… and that brought up something else, was it for romantic love, or sexual love, or both? Regardless, Arthur knew that he himself was neither aro nor ace, so that meant that there had to be one string connected to him, correct?

Arthur rubbed at his temples and mumbled something over the phone, interrupting Gilbert, and hanging up. He stared at Francis was renewed curiosity and lightly prodded him in the shoulder. Francis scrunched his nose up and sat up, only to lean back in his chair.

“Fran-” Arthur stopped himself, since it was the frenchman’s name that had originally gotten him into the minor funk that had caused Arthur to call Gilbert. “Erm, so you can see the strings of lovers…” he started lamely.

Francis turned his eyes to the brit and nodded, a noise of confirmation coming from his mouth.

Arthur continued. “And those names you were saying before… do they have strings connecting them?”

Francis nodded again.

“Does… Gilbert know, that his, well, his soulmate is Matthew?”

Francis started to nod his head but froze before shaking it left to right. Arthur worried his lip in thought, debating whether or not to ask.

Well, Francis was drunk, and most likely would not remember this. “Who is my string connected to?”

Francis blinked. Then blinked again. He stared down at his hands, which were clenching and unclenching. Francis felt woozy but also confused, as he always did when he thought of Arthur. Arthur had taken his seeing of strings in stride, but of course, he could also be faking it. Francis would not put it past him.

Still… Francis had no idea why he saw no string coming from the brit. He dismissed the thought of him being ace or aro; those people always glowed a dim gold color. If they were one of those, they would glow a dim silver color and had the possibility of a string.

Regardless, Arthur did not glow. Nor did he have a string. Which baffled Francis to no end, and it did not help that he was drunk while trying to make sense of this predicament once more.

“Francis?” Arthur prodded gently.

Francis steeled himself and stared directly at Arthur. “You don’t have a string.”

“Oh.” Arthur stared at the counter. “Does this mean I don’t have a soulmate, then?”

“I don’t…” Francis clenched his hands together in frustration. “I don’t know, I don’t know! You confuse me so much! Bon sang,” he cursed. “There is nothing… euh, english… conventional about you.”

“Well!” Arthur huffed. He was a gentleman, no doubt, but he was not going to sit by and be insulted! And Arthur was certain that the frog had meant it as an insult.

He did not get another word out, however, as Francis continued in a muttered, angry tone. “Which is why it is confusing why I insist on returning to you.” He finished his statement with a very mature pout and fiddled with his fingers absentmindedly.

“Erm…” Arthur stared wide-eyed at the frenchman. “I think… I need to get you home.”

Francis blinked a few times, a thoughtful expression overtaking his features. “Okay.”

Arthur did not question how trusting Francis was being nor how he knew the way to his house, for as he dragged the suddenly-deadweight Francis beside him, his mind was going a mile a minute, and he was reassessing every moment he had ever spent with the confusing but intriguing frenchman.

[feuilledrabbles]

This fandom is alarmingly void of 2p FrUK fluff so I drew some myself.

[feuilledrabbles]

@ hetalia fanwork creators

aaaa okay so, in this dying fandom getting notes for ur work can be hard but i just want all the creators to know: i appreciate you!!! thank u!!!!!

and if you still draw, write, make edits, etc. for this fandom please reblog/like this so i can check you out!

or if you just post hetalia still in general!! please!! i want to support u!!

[feuilledrabbles]

Every planet in our solar system has a “champion” being that takes on the attributes of the planet itself. The “champion” from the sun has created an army to destroy the planets and the 8 (or 9) champions must save the solar system.

[feuilledrabbles]

Mercury was the first line of defense. Always was, always had been. They saw the army coming and alerted their neighbor, Venus, before running off to start a chain reaction. Mercury was not named after the messenger god for nothing. 

After their duty was complete, Mercury stood by Venus as the other planetary defenses arrived. They were on Mercury’s small planet, watching with careful gazes as the Sun Army approached. It was lead by Sun themself, followed by swaths of Solar Flares. 

Earth reached their sides and shuddered, watery power surging through them. While the other planetary guardians had much strength in their heated volcanoes and vicious wind storms, theirs was the only planet with vast amounts of water. 

Earth was followed swiftly by Mars, and the two nodded at one another in terse greeting. Mars knew that they were not the strongest of the defenders, but they were the best in strategy. Earth approached Mars and the two conversed in the way only the inhuman defenders could. 

Uranus and Neptune arrived together, surprisingly before Jupiter or Saturn, as both of the latter defenders had homes closer to Mercury than the former. Uranus was silent and unable to speak in any form, yet Neptune translated as they usually did. They explained that Jupiter was aiding Saturn in gathering their rings, knowing this battle would be more fierce than the others before them. 

Neptune joined Mars and Earth, Uranus entering the meeting directly behind Neptune. The two were uncannily alike, but as Uranus’s axis spun a deviant direction, they were unable to converse the same way. 

Mercury faced the growing army with grim silence. They knew their position in the group. They knew their own strength. 

Venus stood beside them, a heated aura flitting around their figure. Their burning atmosphere caused the dust around their feet to become singed. Venus was the ticking time bomb, ready to explode when they see fit, taking down anything and everything in the vicinity. They knew to wait for Mars’s signal before rampaging. 

Jupiter landed with a large sound, chains chiming as Saturn followed with an air of grace despite their large figure. Jupiter was, of course, the largest planetary defender. They were swiftly informed of the strategy in the making by Mars. 

Saturn, draped in their ever-powerful Rings, was sent bits and pieces of the plan by the reaches of a few Rings. They had the freedom to approach Mercury and sent silent comfort their way while still being a part of the discussion on strategy. Saturn knew just as well as Mercury did where the smaller planet stood. They did not, however, promise to protect the small defender’s planet, as it would have been immensely rude to Mercury. 

The eight stood in a line, each with their roles in place. Heat, fire, storm, water, cold, all of the elements of their respecting planets aided them, surrounded them, and empowered them. 

From behind the gathered planetary defenders was a figure clad in curtains of ice. They needed no explanation and none of the present defenders attempted to address them. They saw all, heard all, quiet as a mouse and smaller than a moon. 

With Pluto backing them, the Champions of the Planets faced down the ever-growing army of Solar Flares, lead by the traitorous Sun themself. They were complete, they were powerful, and they would protect their planets or die trying. 

Every planet in our solar system has a “champion” being that takes on the attributes of the planet itself. The “champion” from the sun has created an army to destroy the planets and the 8 (or 9) champions must save the solar system.