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Literature
Soldier!England x Reader: All's Fair Pt7
You were really getting sick of hearing the word "miracle." Between killing four Nazi agents and the fact that both your cover and Arthur's were blown, the fact that you were still alive seemed to be far from a miracle. It was due to the bullet having somehow missed all of your vital organs and exited clean out the back that all of the doctors and nurses were wagging their tongues over you. It didn't help that the papers were already flying off the press with the news of the nation's beloved Popsie getting shot. The way they painted you like a saint and a victim made you sick. The conspiracy theories that you were secretly working for the resistance were even worse. You honestly wished that bullet hadn't missed its mark. Now you and Arthur were left to clean up the mess and figure out how to explain Beilshmidt and his goons.
Now you sat on the edge of your bed with your hospital-provided nightgown pulled up, staring down at the sutures in your side, trying unsuccessfully to figure out
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Literature
England x Timetraveler!Reader: Something Old Pt1
966 AD
Border of Mercia and Wales

I had never awakened in such an unfamiliar place before. Or had I? It was all so hard to remember. It was unfamiliar, because at the back of my mind some part of me insisted I had never woken up in a place like this before. For one thing, I was outside somewhere, lying on my back looking up at a beautifully clear blue sky. For another, tall grass swayed around me in the breeze, hiding me from the world for now as I lay contemplating the peculiarity of finding myself here. 
How had I gotten here?....I couldn't remember.
I thought harder, frowning with the effort to try and recall even the slightest wisp of a memory that would explain what had led me to this place. But there was nothing. It was as if my mind was a blank slate. Almost as though I had been born here in this field. And then something unexpected roused me from my contemplative state when I finally noticed, too late, the sound of footsteps tromping through the grass toward me.
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Literature
Soldier!England x Reader: All's Fair Pt6
"Zey said zey were looking for a man seen leaving ze scene of ze crime, and a witness claims zey saw you and Popsie zere."
Arthur paled and he turned slightly to look at you. He'd thought the two of your had been inconspicuous leaving the theater. You both thought you had taken every precaution. You saw in his eyes the unspoken question as to the situation at hand, What should we do? 
Immediately you were on your feet and you darted over to Francis, pushing him back out of the room as you said hurriedly, "Whatever they ask, if you have ever been a friend to my father you will protect us long enough to give us both the chance to explain ourselves."
"Pardon?"
"If they insist on seeing Arthur, which they will, tell them that he is indisposed at the moment and should not be disturbed. If they ask you how long he has been here, tell them you think he's been here at least an hour or two, and whatever you see if they come through this door, pretend like you already knew."
"
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Literature
Soldier!England x Reader: All's Fair Pt5
"You lost...my trunk..."
"..."
You stared at Arthur, but he met your eyes steadily with only the slightest sign of remorse.
"How could you lose my trunk?!"
"I must have overlooked it when we were loading up the bags."
"How could you overlook it? It's the only bright blue bag in the bunch!"
"It must have been behind something."
"It's this big!" You measured an imaginary bag in the air with your hands, "What could it possibly have been behind that you would have missed it?"
"I don't bloody know, all right?" Arthur's fists were shaking now, "What does it matter anyway? You've still got your valise. That should have what you need in it."
"What I need are my clothes. Do you honestly think I would drag that thing around if there weren't items of importance inside?!"
"I'm your manager, not your personal porter! Honestly, If I'd have known you were going to be this petty every time you so much as stubbed your toe, I wouldn't have taken this job in the first place."
"Well believe me, If
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Literature
Soldier!England x Reader: All's Fair Pt4
Paris wasn't exactly what you had always dreamed it would be. Oh, it was beautiful, of course, but you had a feeling that you would have been having a more fulfilling experience if you weren't there undercover. Every moment you were afraid that anything you did or said might give you away. One thing that you found quite flattering, on the other hand, were the posters Baba showed you at one of the local theaters he had booked for you and the band to play at. The posters had a striking likeness of you printed on them with your stage name printed boldly, "Popsie!"
There was no real reason you had chosen this specific name, other than that it was army slang for 'girlfriend' and the idea of everyone calling you 'girlfriend' amused you. You were more popular than you had realized, because when you were within close proximity to the venue, a handful or so of people seemed to recognize you and they smiled and waved animatedly. You'd only ever recorded two songs, but one of them had made it ont
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Literature
Soldier!England x Reader: All's Fair Pt3
“________! ________, come quick! You’ve got to see this!”
“What?” You set down your music and turned to your manager, Mimi, who seemed completely out of breath. “What’s going on?”
“The Japanese just bombed Pearl Harbor! Look here,” Mimi thrust a newspaper into your face and pointed to the headline enthusiastically. More specifically, the headline announced that America had declared war on Japan. You gripped the paper tightly, your heart twisting. If this was the case, it meant the war was far from over. When you went outside to clear your head for a moment, there were many who were having the same reaction. Elderly couples and single mothers and school children all stood in clumps around newspapers, shaking their heads as they read the awful news. Mothers missing their young sons wept openly. Your heart sank as two faces simultaneously made their way into your subconscious: Baba’s and Arthur's.
You wondered whe
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Literature
Soldier!England x Reader: All's Fair Pt2
Arthur was mesmerized by her singing. Mostly it was just a handful of wartime songs that she crooned into the microphone, nothing special. But there was just something about the way she moved when she sang the slower ballads that held him spellbound. The way she swayed to the music made her skirts swish pleasantly around her legs. Her eyes sparkled under the stage lights, and frequently she would turn her gaze over to him and smile, which set his heart skipping every time. The majority of the crowd consisted of men and soldiers stationed in the area, and unfortunately half of the time Arthur could barely hear her above the whistles and catcalls. Who was this girl? All this popularity and attention from men, and yet she was still unmarried. He couldn't fathom why.
At the end of the night, he waited for her by the front door where she had instructed him to while she and the rest of the band finished closing up for the night. His heart thumped in his chest in anticipation. He found
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Literature
Soldier!England x Reader: All's Fair Pt1
It should have been common sense to run home and never think or speak of it again. But you couldn't seem to help yourself. He was so...beautiful. You had been walking home from your job at the theater. You sang in a band, but for the next eight months you had been hired as the evening's entertainment at a local theater downtown. The pay wasn't that great, but it was better than nothing, and it was a good way to support the war effort anyway. Tonight you had gotten off later than usual, thanks to the size of the crowd, and on your walk home you had nearly tripped over an obstacle in the road: a soldier lying face-down in the dirt.
At first your chest had tightened with fear when you realized that it was a human being and not a tree branch lying in the road. But compassion drove you to crouch down and turn him onto his back to see if he was all right, and there you had looked on a face that held you spellbound for reasons you couldn't quite explain. It wasn't that he was particularly han
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Literature
France x Reader: Moonlight Kisses
You paced in front of the phone for an hour, waiting, hoping, and praying. It really was too good to be true. Two days ago you had slipped up and confessed your feelings to Francis Bonnefoy. It had all been the result of a silly argument. Francis had been getting jealous of late for some reason because of all the time you were spending with Arthur and Alfred lately. You couldn't understand why. After all, you had all grown up together, and it was only lately that he had started acting so possessive of you. The whole thing had blown up when Francis had picked a fight with you over it, and out of pure anger you had blurted out that he should stop beings so jealous when he knew you were in love with him. You had immediately clapped your hands over your mouth in horror at what you had just unleashed. You actually had no idea if he knew how you felt, but you had just been so frustrated and upset by the accusations that you wanted to dismiss any ideas he might have had about you having any f
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Literature
England x Reader: Sugar? Yes Please!
I've never been the best at keeping a diary. Mostly because once I get started on an entry it takes me the better part of a couple of hours to finish it. I know that diaries are intended to be used for recording your innermost thoughts and feelings in well thought out detail, but I often put off writing about anything until something extremely important to my heart comes up to write about. Today at my kitchen table, I was writing about Arthur.
It was strange to me how someone I had met only a few months ago could have so quickly become the most important part of my life. He almost made the day begin. The sunrise was never as warm without his face within sight. Making him smile had probably become my favorite thing in the world, second only to making him laugh. And whenever he was near, everything stressful and scary and uncertain about my life suddenly didn't feel so overwhelming anymore. More than anything, though, Arthur had quickly become my best friend, and lately I had begun to re
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Literature
France x Reader: Hollywood Stars
Thanks to rehearsal getting out sooner than scheduled, most of the cast had already changed and headed out for the day, which meant I would be able to go home a lot sooner. Once I had changed back into my street clothes and packed away the costumes and equipment, I started walking to my car. I had to walk through several studio lots to get to the parking lot at the far end of the complex. As I was passing one of the food trucks, which was just in the process of closing, I noticed that Gilbert, an arrogant dipstick who didn’t know when to lay off, was harassing someone standing by waiting for their order. You recognized the man; Alfred had introduced you to him briefly earlier that day as an old friend of his and a new hire in the film department, but you hadn't had time for more than a brief "hello."
“Come on, brohas,” Gilbert was saying, trying to get in the man's face, “tell us where you’re from.”
I sens
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Literature
Agent!EnglandxAgent!Reader: Challenge accepted
As you were looking through the photos on your phone, a text message from Arthur popped up. You smiled when you read the words,
I need my Russian lover to come collect me from room 405. Now.
You tucked your phone into your purse and tried to think fast about what you could do about your clothes. You looked a bit too professional to pass for a Russian girlfriend. You glanced down at yourself, and then at the windows that looked out onto the hallway, contemplating. Then, in one swift movement you swacked the blinds shut on the windows and shucked off your jeans. You pulled your camisole down around your waist like a skirt and tucked the straps in.
In the reflection of the window you could see that you couldn’t pull the camisole down any further or the straps would show, but the length it was at right now and the way it hugged your backside made you look like a stripper. You didn’t think it would be too much of an issue though, since most Americans assume Russian women
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Literature
England x Reader: Part of Me
It didn’t take a genius to figure out you were mad when you got home from school. Arthur was in the kitchen doing dishes when you dropped your book bag on the floor by the coffee table and flopped down onto the couch, crossing your arms and glaring at the ceiling.
“Uh-oh. That doesn’t sound good.” You could hear the gentle amusement in his voice. You sighed irritably. He didn’t respond right away, but you knew there was a small smile on his lips as he finished up what he was doing and dried his hands on a towel. Pushing your head forward off of the couch, he took a seat beside you and then let your head fall back onto his lap.
“All right. What’s happened, love?”
“Boys are stupid.”
Arthur chuckled and stroked your hair, “I assume you mean the entire sex?”
Pursing your lips, you nodded.
“And what has brought you to such a conclusion?”
You sighed and looked up into his face, “Why do so many guys trea
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Literature
France X Reader: Secret Messages
“_______?”
You raised your eyebrows but didn’t look up. It wasn't the first time Francis had tracked you down at the university library. You always claimed the same sofa on the third floor by the window to study, and ever since he'd run into you there the first time, he often checked there after classes to bug you.
Francis poked your leg, silently asking you to move so he could sit beside you. You looked up at him wordlessly, unwilling to say anything for fear he would sit beside you and start murmuring sweet nothings in your ear. You hated when he did that to you in public, because it was damnably nearly impossible to keep your facial expressions under control.
Francis knew this too, and continued to poke your leg insistently until you finally moved one leg back long enough to let him sit down, and then immediately stretched your leg back out over his lap. Your other leg was pressed uncomfortably between his weight and the back of the couch, so you adjusted your leg
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Literature
England x Reader: Pleasant Dreams
You thumped a pillow down onto Francis' legs and flopped down onto the couch with your head in his lap, crossing your arms and glowering at the ceiling. Arthur was a bit surprised when you put your feet up on his lap, but Francis simply began stroking your hair and smiled.
Arthur sighed and crossed his arms, "Honestly, love, it's only a date. It's not like you have to marry the poor sod."
"Oui, 'e cannot force you to do anysing you do not want to do."
"Well, then why don't you two go out with him? Unless you have any brilliant ideas of how I can prevent him from trying to put his arm around me or avoid the inevitably awkward doorstep scene."
Arthur snorted and turned his head, "Then just tell the little bugger to piss off."
"I'm not going to be rude! He's still my friend. I just have no desire to get mushy and romantic." You sighed, "Please save me, you guys."
"I could answer ze door in ze nude," Francis offered.
You pursed your lips and raised your eyebrows. That actuall
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Literature
France x England x Reader: Sweet Revenge
“Get your keys, you’re taking me for a drive.” You grabbed Arthur’s sleeve and started to pull him away from his perch on the sofa where he had been reading and sipping tea from your favorite mug.
“Am I?” He fumbled to mark his place in his book as he reluctantly allowed himself to be dragged away from his happy place.
“Yes,” you yanked your jacket off of the kitchen chair where you had draped it the day before and let go of him long enough to shrug into it.
“Is anything the matter?” The tone of your voice had been enough to alert him that something was wrong.
“I’ll tell you later.” You crossed my arms and watched him impatiently as he stood hesitantly, still unwilling to leave his book and tea to get cold, “Can’t we just talk here? Sit down with a cuppa, it’ll soothe your nerves.”
You pressed your hands to your head in irritation, “I don’t want a cup of tea!”
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Favourites

Literature
A Knight's Kiss, EnglandxReader
    Your hair was pulled back out of your face, pushed back with an old, faded cloth that managed to frame your face rather well for being nothing more than an old piece of fabric. It drew attention to the shape of your eyes, and although you didn’t find much special about them, many of your daily customers would find themselves almost immediately drawn to them. Once or twice, those eyes may have even managed to sell an extra pastry, although many attributed those eyes to the vastly relaxed and friendly atmosphere surrounding your shop.
    The apron that covered your skirt was dirtied in a spray of flour that you hadn’t yet noticed despite the fact that almost half of your day had already passed. You weren’t exactly the type to notice something so small--especially in your line of work in which it would have been more surprising to see your apron looking spotless.
    Besides that, you were having a busy enough day to merit a slight mess
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Literature
England X Reader: Dancing In The Rain
The sweet melody of rain drops swept you to your feet.  Your hotel room only held one window, and you rushed to it’s side and peered through the cracks.  To your joy, rain coated the glass.  Happily, you pulled the blinds open to get a better look.  
The skies were painted grey and drops of water fell to the ground and splattered on brick.  A consistent thumping sound made your heart race.  Some people in the streets fled the water in hopes of keeping themselves dry, others pulled out an umbrella and continued walking as if it was normal.  But where you were from, this was not normal.  Rain was a rare thing.  You left the window to grab stuff from your suitcase.  You had come to this part of England for a business trip and had to stay in your room since the meeting was postponed.  
As you dug your possessions out from your bag, you made two piles.  One full of stuff you would use eventually and the other full of stuff th
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:iconississ-perok:Ississ-Perok 147 24
Literature
I Guess That's a 'Yes' (America x Reader)
A capped head was bobbing past the window and up to the porch. You inhaled sharply, arms covered in soap and water, and snatched the dish towel on the counter before rushing towards the front door.
You refused to believe it.
He couldn't be.
It was too early and he hadn't told you–
But sure enough, there he stood – crisp and as handsome as ever in his officer's uniform, a few beads of sweat trickling down the sides of his face from the hot, summer sun – with a grin so wide it threatened to shatter his face.
The dish towel landed in a heap by your feet, forgotten and unnoticed as you stared in wide-eyed awe at the man before you.
“Al...?”
Alfred grinned cheekily. “Hey babe. Miss me?”
His image became clouded as tears flooded your vision.
“You idiot–!”
You propelled yourself off the porch and into his awaiting arms, your fingers curling into his back as you held him close. Choked noises erupted from your throat and soapy bubbles
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Literature
Polish, FrancexReader
    He loved it when you painted your nails. You, however, got much more enjoyment out of how your nails looked afterwards, when they had dried completely and shone in that beautiful way newly painted nails did when the light hit the top coat. You liked bright reds, subtle pinks, rich greens and blues, and every once in awhile you would pull out your black polish. However, even as much as you loved the end result, the process of actually painting your nails had become something of a burden.
    “Francis, I swear,” you scoffed, letting your threat hang limply in the air as you felt your boyfriend’s lips connect to the base of your neck from behind. Your head turned, eyes narrowing at the Frenchman. “I just want to paint my nails. Is that too much to ask?”
    He chuckled, tilting his head onto the back of the couch before standing, stuffing his hands smoothly into the pockets of his black pants. “Oh no, I like watching it
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Literature
EnglandXReader WWII Call
The time, was Vorld Var II…

This job as a radio operator can bite my ass. I truly wanted to be off in Europe doing more important work than sitting at a desk all day with a whole bunch of other women. In a cramped room with small fans that did nothing to keep the heat out. Men here had the freedom of showing more skin than us girls, so it was common for someone nearby to faint from the summer temperature. Yet we continued to suffer in this hellhole for the money to support ourselves.
"Ello?"
I sighed, someone just had to call me. The one person in this place who was ready to flip some tables over and burn this place to the ground. "What do you want?"
The man cleared his throat, "Miss, I have a very important message for Alfred F. Jones, whom I presume to be your boss."
"Your name, sir?"
"Arthur Kirkland."
"Sorry, he won't be speaking with anyone for a while." Calmly I sat filing my nails as if I was talking on the phone with my mother.
"E-excuse me?! I said this message was
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Literature
A Poil? ---FrancexReader
His arms wrapped around your waist.
His head was resting on your pant line, which was actually a skirt.
"Get off." you say as you push France's shoulders down to get him off and away from your... you know... but he was too strong. (For once)
"Well excuse eh moi, you never spend time with me! So the only way was to sneak under your desk and hug you!" France whimpered as he looked up at you with puppy eyes.
"Your a tracas*." You growled to him blushing alittle at his cute face.
        *bother
"MON AMOUR*! You spoke French! Even if it was an insult!" His flace gleamed with pride.
*My love!
You pushed back your chair to make France fall face first on the ground. It worked.
As France looked up to make a hurt face, it turned in a Cheshire smile.
"White again, Amour?*
       *Love?
You kicked him in his face.
----------------
Today you were walking out of your house when a blonde-headed French man
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Literature
France x Reader: The Fling
Francis Bonnefoy would take vacations every year to some random place. He’d stay for about five or six weeks and then leave, never bringing home more than just a souvenir or two for himself and his friends. But not this time.
~ ~ ~
You lived in a small town. There was nothing at all special about it. The people there were friendly and things were within walking distance. The only recreation it really had was a small movie theater that showed old and new films, a small shopping center, a little jazz/blues café, and a park. People didn’t visit this town for anything other than to visit the park. It was a picture you would see on a postcard – a large pond with blue-purple, snowcapped mountains in the background surrounded by trees that became a rainbow of orange, yellow, and red in autumn. It was peaceful in the town, and that was all you wanted. Your previous life was in the big city, and it proved too fast paced for you. You had been used and abused by so many men
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Inspector office - game scene by aleksandr-osm Inspector office - game scene :iconaleksandr-osm:aleksandr-osm 97 21
Literature
Nourish (Chef!France x Reader)
There are some people who are fortunate enough to be able to do what they love as a career- they wake up thinking of possibilities, not of burdens. They are the kind who hasten the dawn, awaiting for each day to come, not yearning for the approach of light, equating it to the relief of a heavy burden.
Francis Bonnefoy was one of those lucky few.
The Rouge Café was, to Francis, the perfect combination of food, people and ambient atmosphere. Almost every day, the blonde man came across interesting people to talk to, whether they were first time customers or regular patrons. He felt a strange, profound sympathy for those who woke with a sense of dismay and exhaustion, dreading the day ahead, for it was surely a dispiriting way to live.
Speaking of dispiriting, something caught his eye and he glanced up, alerted by the gentle chiming of the bell above the doorway.
Francis' eyes lit up in recognition as he spotted the figure that had pushed through the doorway, shaking some of their ha
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Literature
FrancexReader: Persuasion.
“Mon Cher~!” Francis called from your lawn.
You briefly looked out your bedroom window, two stories up. A smile curved your lips as you leaned on the window ledge to stare down at him.
“I'm guessing you want something?” You laughed and Francis waved.
“Oui~ Come down here!”
“Non.” You shook your head, observing your French friend.
“What? Why not!”
“Because I've got to get stuff to do. I can't have you distracting me.”
“But-!”
“There's not 'buts' about it. I've got work. Maybe later?”
“Really?” He asked eagerly.
“No.” You laughed bitterly, turning away from the open window.
Ah, sarcasm was a language you knew well, not many found it as funny as you did, but Francis, your best friend since the beginning of your college life, understood it. He claimed it was your 'defense' mechanism and despite your protests, he was right. You used it to get out of situations. It was your
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Literature
Cold (France x Prostitute!Reader)
The evening was quiet.
Francis heaved a deep sigh of impatience, moving both hands against one another in a vain effort to drive back the cold of winter. Every warm breath escaped his lips as a cloud of drifting, fading smoke, soft against the black sheet of the sky, obscuring his vision.
He visibly flinched with every stifled crunch his shoes would create in the hardened, frozen ground, and at every snap of a twig beneath his weight as he continued almost wading his way through the depths of the freshly fallen snow, picking his feet over the mounds and observing them vaguely. He despised bitter nights like this with no mistake; even the gentle accumulation of snow upon his head was irritating, unappreciated, as the cold would seep into what felt like his very skull, drawing shuddering breaths from lips gone pale from cold and discontent. To distract himself (if only for moments at a time), he was forced to urge his own mind into an imagined lull of peace,
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:iconvienna-kangaroo:vienna-kangaroo 213 334
Literature
Pirate!England x Reader: Linger, I
Chapter One: I am a Maid
You open your eyes to the wooden ceiling, and you sit up, facing the wallpapered walls with sweet calico designs. Your bed creaks under your weight, and you glance down at your trembling hands.
You hate that dream, the one of the escaping, frightened young girl. Every time, you are left as the spectator to the scene, but the thing is that you can feel everything she feels.
You pull up your nightdress, revealing whitened scars on your stomach and legs. They're a hideous sight, but at least they're old. At least they don't hurt anymore.
It has been six years since that incident, and your hair has being cut and has grown, has become a tangled mess. You barely resemble who you used to be, though you can still do the things you could do then. You've gotten taller, developed a lot more, and your face has become grim. You don't smile very much anymore; at least…you don't smile for real. Your hands are calloused from the hard work you've had to do, dirt col
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Literature
Capturing the Flag with Hetalia! ~ America
Once the game started, you watched the rest of your team head out into the woods. You had volunteered to stay behind and guard the flag; let them run around and get sweaty, you were going to enjoy this lovely day by relaxing in the shade. Your eyes closed in contentment. You paced around the tree, trailing your feet across the grass as you left wide circles in your path. Cool air danced down through the sky, making the leaves tremble in the tall trees as sunshine poured out over them. It was a thoroughly pleasant day. The blue flag fluttered gently in the breeze, hanging off the giant oak behind you. The sun was bright and the birds were noisy, chattering in the bright green of the woods. The wind put a low howl in your ears, which soon picked up on another, fainter sound. You cocked your head curiously. Was it...rustling? You turned around quickly; the noise was coming from a leafy bush that sat on the edge of an arch of trees.
You peered at it inquisitively. Was it an animal?
A quick
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Literature
Capturing the Flag with Hetalia! ~ France
As the sound of America's (rather obnoxious) air horn, you took off, making sure to keep low to the ground.
You approached hostile territory and glanced around. There was no one in sight.
There was no one anywhere.
You smiled smugly, congratulating yourself on sneaking passed everyone. After tip-toeing silently across the enemy line, a nearby rustle sent your heart racing as you immediately dove into some bushes.
"What was that noise?" You strained your ears, trying to determine what the sound was, or if it would come again.
Birds chirped brightly, but nothing unusual greeted your ears.
You peeked out from in between the branches. Just an empty forest…
“I must have been imagining things...” You thought.
You continued on, but moved a little slower, still cautious of the phantom sound.
Darting along the path, you tried searching for the flag, but your vision was heavily restricted by the thick foliage you were creeping through.
“I’m sure it's safe by now. T
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Literature
Capturing the Flag with Hetalia! ~ England
The instant the horn sounded you bounded away, ready to charge to the other side. Time was essential to this game, you figured, and if you played with it on your side you may have a chance at winning. So you quickly rushed through the woods, hoping to find the Allies flag as soon as possible before they had a chance to get yours.
The leaves and branches of the forest brushed against you as you flew through it, soaring across the jagged terrain with a smile on your face. You had never really run through a forest before-it was kind of exhilarating! The wind nipped at your ears, whistling past your cheek with a dull chill. Air filled your lungs, chest rising and muscles straining as you moved through the tangled forest floor.
You had just raised your right foot when the other landed in a small pit in the forest floor, twisting at a sickening angle and sending pain shooting up your leg. You collapsed on the ground, gasping. Oh, that hurt! After a moment of recuperation, you tried
:iconMiss-Sherlocked:Miss-Sherlocked
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Literature
FrancexReader Dance of a Fox and Wolf
FrancexReader
Dance of a Fox and Wolf
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Masquerade balls. Not only a giant waste of of money, but also a waste of your time. Seriously, who the hell held Masquerade balls in the 21st century?
You stared at the gold paper decorated with red roses. Loopy cursive dictated where and when the ball was. A stupid invitation. You were about to crumble it, when something stopped you.
It was a little stamp, really nothing most people would notice. But you noticed and scowled. It was stamped in purple ink. It was a simple design, a bleeding rose and a sword crossed over a shield.
A stamp you recognized all to well.  It was the family crest of a strain of ancient vampires.
Tossing it onto you bed, you headed for your basement. You were going to need some supplies.
You weren't really one who liked dresses. Heck, if it were up to you, every single one would be burned. They were hard to move in, hard to breathe in and just plain annoying.
The dress you w
:iconOstara-Frost:Ostara-Frost
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Activity


You were really getting sick of hearing the word "miracle." Between killing four Nazi agents and the fact that both your cover and Arthur's were blown, the fact that you were still alive seemed to be far from a miracle. It was due to the bullet having somehow missed all of your vital organs and exited clean out the back that all of the doctors and nurses were wagging their tongues over you. It didn't help that the papers were already flying off the press with the news of the nation's beloved Popsie getting shot. The way they painted you like a saint and a victim made you sick. The conspiracy theories that you were secretly working for the resistance were even worse. You honestly wished that bullet hadn't missed its mark. Now you and Arthur were left to clean up the mess and figure out how to explain Beilshmidt and his goons.

Now you sat on the edge of your bed with your hospital-provided nightgown pulled up, staring down at the sutures in your side, trying unsuccessfully to figure out what your next move would be. You replayed the scenes in your head over and over of waking up in the back of Francis's car as it jostled and bumped along to the hospital. Francis himself was at the wheel, and Arthur had had you wrapped tightly in his coat, petting your hair and murmuring, "Hold on. Just hold on..."

Your eyelids fluttered and you roused from unconsciousness enough to register how nauseated you were. The entire time you were awake you were certain you were going to be sick.

"Where...?" You asked weakly.

Arthur brushed your hair back and shushed you, "It's alright. You're going to be alright. Just hang on."

"No...hospital..." you pleaded. If you went to the hospital, everyone would know what had happened, and you'd all be finished. Maybe shipped off to one of those godforsaken death camps, or interrogated and tortured to death by the gestapo.

Arthur held you tighter, "Just hold on, ______, we're almost there."

"No..." you moaned, "they'll...find...us..."

Arthur looked at you, his eyes hazy and red and conflicted, "_______, I can't let you die."

You absorbed this for a moment and then said, "Then we all die."

It hadn't been long after that that Francis screeched to a halt at the emergency entrance to the hospital and leaped out of the car, running around to open the door for Arthur. Arthur lifted you out of the back seat as though you weighed nothing at all and carried you through the doors. A lot of confusion had followed for you as you slipped in and out of consciousness. Scenes of lying on a table with doctors and nurses all around you with various instruments and pads of gauze to staunch the bleeding. You vaguely remembered waking up once and hearing the surgeon declaring it a miracle that you’d taken such a clean shot.

You only awakened once after that in a hospital room alone. You weren’t sure where Arthur and Francis had disappeared to, but the thought did cross your mind that they might have dropped you at the hospital and fled to save their own lives. But Arthur had already risked his life for you so many times as it was that you held onto the hope that he might still be near, figuring out some way to get you all out of this situation…

Now, as you sat staring down at the sutures in your side, you pondered what your fate would be. You would have to leave the country, there was no doubt about that. Even if you could convince the public of your alleged innocence in the whole mess, it was too risky. There would be too many suspicious German agents that would attempt to interview, interrogate, and in all likelihood kill you in their efforts to get to people like Arthur and Baba.

It must have been several hours since you were admitted to the hospital at this point, but still you had seen no sign of Arthur anywhere. A nurse had come in once to check on you, and when you had asked if a tall, fair-haired man had been in to see you, she had been spectacularly unhelpful by insisting that you “rest and not worry about that right now.”

They had given you a blood transfusion after patching you up, but you still felt a bit weak and lightheaded - even a little sick. You started as a new thought suddenly occurred to you: What if the Gestapo already caught Arthur and Francis here at the hospital and carted them away to be interrogated? Or worse, executed? A bead of sweat rolled down the back of your neck. You felt like you were going to be sick. What if they were still alive, right now, and were being tortured for information? Nazis were merciless as it was, but the gestapo…. You remembered once overhearing Baba say he would be killed first before letting himself be taken by the gestapo.

Your heart began to race and you swayed slightly where you sat, If Arthur and Francis have already been taken, it’s just a matter of time before they come for me…

You looked around the room for your clothes. You had to get out of here right away before anyone could get to you. You had no idea of whether you’d be able to help Arthur or Francis if they were even alive still, but you were no good to anyone dead. You stood and swayed, your head pounding and your side screaming in pain. You had to put your hand on the wall to steady yourself until your head cleared, and then you went straight for the cupboards in the room in search of your dress.

As soon as you had the first cupboard door open you remembered that you had been wearing nothing but your knickers and Arthur’s coat when they brought you in. You couldn’t very well wear that out of here. The coat would most likely have been thrown out anyway. The hospital gown would have to do, then. But if you could possibly steal a coat and a pair of slippers from the nurse’s station….That was as far as you could think at the moment. You pulled yourself toward the door.

You’d only moved maybe four steps, however, when there was a knock and the door opened. A nurse stepped in and closed the door behind herself. When she saw you standing she jumped slightly, the tray she carried rattling, “Oh, my! What are you doing out of bed? Sit down, sit down.” The nurse grasped you firmly by the arm and tried to steer you back over to the bed. You attempted to pull away, “No, please, you don’t understand. I must go--”

“You’re not going anywhere just yet. Now sit down, the doctor has ordered this injection for you.”

You noticed for the first time the large syringe on the tray she had brought it, and you thought it a little odd that such a large dose of anything was needed. You looked at the nurse again, and something felt off. She was a bit too eager to stick you with a needle. What’s more, she seemed a little nervous as well. Instantly an alarm went off inside you. Something about this woman wasn’t right, and the more firmly she tugged on your arm, the more uneasy you felt.

“What is it for?”

“It’s to prevent infection.” She had set the tray down on the table beside the bed and was now reaching to grab the syringe from it. She hadn’t even succeeded in making you sit and she was already going for the needle. She also hadn't even disinfected an injection site first. Definitely too eager.

“Could I speak with the doctor, please? I’d like to ask him about the injection first before you give it to me.”

She seemed irritated, “No, no, the doctor is far too busy at the moment, and I have others to tend to this evening. Now please, miss,” she at last succeeded in all but forcing you to sit back down on the edge of your bed, but you weren’t about to let her stick you with anything. She checked over her shoulder nervously and grabbed for your arm, clearly in a hurry now. You wrestled your arm away and insisted firmly, “I’m not taking anything until I can speak with the doctor.”

She could see you meant it and seemed to weigh her options for a moment, her face growing red with frustration. You thought maybe she might leave, then, and a part of you relaxed slightly for half a second. But all at once, she seized the needle and went after your arm with a vengeance. You shifted sideways and dodged her hand just in time. She lunged again and you caught her by the wrists and wrestling with her, grunting in pain as you fought for control. You both might have been evenly matched at one point, but between gunshot, blood loss, and shock, you were weakened.

Using the only defense you knew to use in your current condition, you shifted your weight on the bed and flipped around just as your strength gave out, using the nurse’s force against her and tripping her as she pitched forward to make her land face-first on the bed. Again you both struggled for control, but the new angle gave you the advantage and the syringe was in your hand now. Not knowing what else to do, you plunged the needle straight into the side of her exposed neck and depressed the plunger.

The nurse’s body began convulsing and shuddering grotesquely, and foam bubbled at the corners of her mouth. It only lasted about five seconds, and then her body sagged like a boned fish. You checked for a pulse but found none. She was dead.

Looks like you hadn’t been wrong about them coming for you soon. You tried to figure out how you were going to hide the body and get out of the hospital before they discovered a dead nurse and a missing patient. You panted and turned the nurse’s body over, wondering if maybe you could stuff the body into one of the larger cabinets. And then your earlier attempts to find your clothes in the cabinets hit you and you had an idea.

Working as quickly and silently as possible, you dragged the nurse’s body the rest of the way up onto the bed, and after pulling the syringe out of her neck, you began removing her clothes down to her undergarments. Stripping off your hospital gown, you tossed it onto the nurse’s lifeless body and drew the sheets up to her chin to hide her current condition. You dressed shakily in the nurse’s uniform  and then fixed her cap on top of your head. You almost forgot to be sure and close her eyes to give her the appearance of sleeping before turning your back on her, still shaking; side screaming with pain; head still swimming.

You then went to the door and paused, taking a deep breath to compose yourself. And then, as calmly and quickly as possible, you walked out of the room and down the hall.

966 AD
Border of Mercia and Wales


I had never awakened in such an unfamiliar place before. Or had I? It was all so hard to remember. It was unfamiliar, because at the back of my mind some part of me insisted I had never woken up in a place like this before. For one thing, I was outside somewhere, lying on my back looking up at a beautifully clear blue sky. For another, tall grass swayed around me in the breeze, hiding me from the world for now as I lay contemplating the peculiarity of finding myself here. 

How had I gotten here?....I couldn't remember.

I thought harder, frowning with the effort to try and recall even the slightest wisp of a memory that would explain what had led me to this place. But there was nothing. It was as if my mind was a blank slate. Almost as though I had been born here in this field. And then something unexpected roused me from my contemplative state when I finally noticed, too late, the sound of footsteps tromping through the grass toward me. 

Before I could think to roll over or stand up to get out of the way, the footsteps and the person they belonged to tripped over me and came crashing down on top of me with a great cacophony of swearing and cursing intermingled with the barking of a dog somewhere close by. I couldn't suppress a shriek of surprise at first, and when the man pushed himself up slightly off of me, startled, he stared at me with the most arresting green eyes I had ever seen in my life.

He looked irritated, more than anything else, and demanded hotly, "ðe bræs êower?"*

I blinked at him. What language was thatAfter a confused moment of silence, I blurted, "What?"

The man looked just as confused by my speech as I was with his. He sat up then, tilting his fair head curiously at me, and repeated what he'd said. I furrowed my brow and shook my head to indicate that I didn't understand him. He looked me up and down, his lips pursed. Normally, I would have found being looked up and down like that to be very rude, but he did it in such a way that I knew that he wasn't looking over my body but rather was trying to determine who or what I was.

I sat up as well, my head spinning a little as I did so, and for the first time saw the dog I had heard barking when the man had first tripped and fallen on me. It was a black and white dog with friendly gray eyes and a warm tongue hanging out of its mouth as it panted beside its master. The man got to his feet and after some deliberation offered me his hand. I took it cautiously and he pulled me to my feet. His hand was hard, and he was leanly built, but strong. I found myself staring into those eyes again, beautiful and deep like the green of the fields around us, and yet as dark and mysterious as the forest beyond. 

Out of nowhere I felt overcome with a wild desire to throw myself into his arms and kiss his neck. What is wrong with me? My head was spinning with the effort to stay standing, and as I took a step toward him for support I swayed and my knees buckled. He caught me by the hand and steadied me with a hand on my back before I could go down. He said something else that I didn't comprehend, but I just shook my head to indicate that I still didn't understand.

But then we were walking. Where, I wasn't sure, but he never let go of my hand and he continued to support me with his arm around my shoulders as we made our way through the tall grass, the black and white dog yipping and bounding ahead of us. Eventually we broke out of the tall grass to a patch of land where the vegetation was cut short and trimmed back to boast a small cottage at the edge of the trees of a forest. I paused for a moment to admire the beauty of such a scene, but the man urged me forward at my hesitation until we were inside the cottage.

The furnishings were sparse and very simple, but not unpleasant. The man sat me down on the only bed in the room and then drew up a chair for himself in front of me, scrutinizing my face carefully. I wasn't comfortable with him staring at me like that, and I cast my eyes around for something to distract me. Presently he did ask me, "êower nama?"**

I looked at him, but gave him no reply. Did he really think that if he kept talking at me that I'd somehow magically be able to understand him? He thought for a moment when it was clear I couldn't answer him, and then pointed to himself, "Ic pro Arthur."***

He raised an eyebrow at me to ask if I understood. I pointed at him, trying to match his pronunciation, and repeated, "Ic pro Arthur?"

He shook his head and pointed to himself again, "Arthur." Then he pointed to me, raising an eyebrow again.

"Ah!" I smiled, understanding, and then pointed to myself, "_________."

He smiled as well, pleased with our success of introducing ourselves, and then pointed to himself again, saying, "Arthur," and then he reached out and gently touched my face, almost without thinking it seemed, and said softly, "_________...." And it sounded better than it ever had before. I wanted to hear him say it again and again. I wanted to hear him whisper it to me in the dark and murmur it into my hair.

My entire body had grown warm and tingly, and a strange sense of longing overtook me as I yearned to know everything about this man in an instant. Yet I knew, with a tinge of regret, that even in a lifetime I would come to know only a fraction of what there was to know about him. I ached with the desire to be able to speak with him, to learn everything about him. But it was plain to see that as of right now, the most we might ever know about one another was our names.

In a flash, Arthur suddenly remembered the intimate nature of touching my face, and he abruptly pulled away, blushing slightly. I couldn't see my own face, but I felt sure that I was blushing, too. What must he be thinking? After an awkward pause, he stood abruptly and turned from me, going to the front door and then pausing for a moment, turning back to look at me. Even in the shade of the cottage, his eyes still glinted slightly with that perfect jeweled gleam as he regarded me on the bed. He pointed at me and then motioned for me to stay where I was. I nodded, understanding, and then he departed through the front door, letting it bang shut behind him.

The dog yipped outside and followed the retreating footsteps of its master. I listened intently until I couldn't hear either of the two anymore. And then I waited. I don't know how long I waited, but it felt like ages. I watched the sunlight move slowly across the floor as the day waned. I counted to one thousand one hundred and one. I got up to add a log to the fire at the far end of the room. I watched the flames for a moment, trying to think, and then dragged Arthur's chair across the room and sat in it, watching the flames dance again.

Hours later the sound of the dog yipping alerted me to Arthur's return, and I was curious what he would do with me when he returned. When the door swung open he was dirtier than before, and his shirt was soiled with sweat from his being out in the sun all day. He must have gone to finish working in the fields for the day. He nodded to me and I smiled in return, and then he crossed the room to where a basin and a pitcher rested on a small toilet table under the window there. He poured water into the basin and washed his hands and face, and then reached for the hem of his shirt, pausing suddenly and glancing over his shoulder at me before proceeding. I flushed and turned my head away, pretending not to look.

Out of the corner of my eye however, I watched Arthur strip off his shirt and use a wet washcloth to sponge himself off. What was it about him that made him so magnetic? The way the firelight glinted off of his tanned skin was so beautiful it almost made me hurt with the need to reach out and touch him. After washing up, he found a clean shirt and pulled it over his head as he made his way toward me. I stood as he approached, my heart suddenly pounding. Every pore in my body seemed to vibrate in response to his presence, and I felt certain that if I couldn't touch him I was going to die.

When he was two feet away from me I took a cautious step toward him and reached out to touch his face. He shrank away from my hand at first and I froze, unsure of his reaction. He visibly calmed when he realized I meant him no harm, and when he leaned slightly toward my hand again I reached and gently caressed his face with my fingertips. He closed his eyes at my touch, and for a moment it thrilled me to think that he might be just as affected by me as I was by him.

I hesitated for a moment, a subtle yet powerful urge overcoming me as I watched his face. But it was a crazy thought. You can't kiss people you've only just met. Especially people you haven't been able to exchange a single word with. And yet already I was moving closer and closer to his face. It almost felt as though some otherworldly force propelled me forward, and between my thudding heart and the tightness in my chest, I didn't have the will to stop.

When our lips met he stiffened as though an electric shock had gone through him, but he didn't pull away. I paused and waited to see what he would do. He didn't move an eyelash at first; just stood there. Ever so slightly the curve of his lips softened. The stiffness in his frame relaxed so slightly I wouldn't have known it had I not been touching him. I pulled away slightly and our eyes met. He exhaled slowly with as much control as he seemed able to muster, his eyes scanning my face wonderingly. And then he surprised me by abruptly (if not a little clumsily) kissing me back. He seemed unsure of himself at first, his fingertips grazing my arms as though he wasn't sure of where to place his hands, and then he caught me in his arms and held me closer, kissed me more deeply.

The sun was almost gone by now, and despite the fire still crackling in the hearth, the interior of the cottage had descended in shadows. It   was several minutes later when the kisses became hungrier, more demanding - that his caresses became more urgent, more insistent. All at once Arthur seemed to remember himself and he pushed away from me, holding me at arms' length and breathing heavily. His eye were wild with a desire I felt beating in my own blood, and after a moment he took a deep breath and lowered his head, letting it out and murmuring something I didn't understand.

Arthur turned me toward the bed and pointed to it, saying something to me in that bizarre language of his, and then made his way toward the fireplace. He lowered himself into a chair there and sat gazing into the flames, his arms resting on his knees and his hands clasped in front of his mouth. I sat down on the bed, unsure of what he wanted me to do, and after a minute he turned and saw I was still sitting there and then gestured for me to lie down and go to sleep. He then gestured to himself and indicated he would sleep in the chair by the fire.

I nodded to indicate that I understood, and lay down on my side, facing him. I wasn't sure what must be going through his mind, but at the thought of sleeping I suddenly realized how completely and utterly exhausted I was. I would sleep for now. And he would be here in the morning. I watched him through heavy eyes until sleep pulled me down.

Yes, I would sleep for now, and in the morning he would be here...

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:iconprincessautumnarcher:
PrincessAutumnArcher Featured By Owner Aug 7, 2014  Student General Artist
Whoa...
Thank you so much for all of the faves! It really means a lot to me. Thank you!
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:iconprincessautumnarcher:
PrincessAutumnArcher Featured By Owner Jul 19, 2014  Student General Artist
Thanks for the fave! I really appreciate it! ^^
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