A/N: Hey, everyone! I just got into the pairing AmeBel, and someone said that the song 'Miss Murder' by AFI reminded them of AmeBel, which reminded them of me! I was quite touched, and I thought that I should write a little fanfiction inspired by the song. Sorry it's kinda short, but I did write and upload this at almost midnight. Well anywho, enjoy reading, and remember to R&R~!

There was something about Ivan's younger sister that truly attracted Alfred to her. Natalya Arlovksaya was truly different from the other women. First, she was cold, and serious. Looking at her could cause a few wounds, without the contact of skin to a blade of her knife. A mysterious, snow white figure only drew him closer. How could one think of her as crazy? So, Alfred took the risk that nobody would even dare to do: try to talk to her.

Yet another world meeting went on, and Alfred noticed that the seat where the porcelain blonde sat, was empty for the first time. As Ludwig talked, Alfred stood up. "I'll be back in five minutes, everyone."

"Ja, ja. Whatever it is Alfred, I bet it's not important for us to know," Ludwig sighed, and shooed him off. This allowed Alfred some time to find Natalya, and get some information from the woman.

He walked out into the hallway, and saw a wave of hair flash by, and vanish behind a white wall. Of course, this lead to the assumption that this was Natalya, so he decided to follow it. Quietly, he turned down the corner. There she was, walking down the corridor. Alfred followed in a quite sneaky way, and tried not to grab her attention yet. Before she was able to make another turn, Alfred called out, "Natalya!"

The Belarusian froze, and felt up her leg to grab her knife. "Who the hell—" she paused, "you're that annoying American."

"I'm not that annoying, and I think I am quite interested in getting to know you," he said, inching closer to her.

"There's no way that's happening, Alfred. You must have a reason why you want to even talk to me," she growled, and started to glare at him intensely. Never did the American know that this chick could be so damn intimidating. Without thinking first, he swooped her into his arms. She let out a shrilling yelp, and pushed on his shoulders. This egged on Alfred to hold her tighter, and he smirked.

"Oh, guess it looks like I caught ya~"

"Let me go, or else your head will never be attached to your body!" she snarled.

"Aw, Nat, do you think that's nice to say to someone who is trying to be friendly?"

"What do you even want?" Alfred grabbed her knife out of her hands, and looked at it, occasionally turning it to examine the blade.

"I see you must like knives, huh?" he asked.

"Da, and that's mine. Do not touch it."

"Come on, a pretty girl like you shouldn't be mad."

"Now you must be kidding around with me!" she yelled, and reached to grab the knife back. The American grew a wide smirk, and held it up high above his head. The fact that he was teasing her, pissed her off more than anything. No person as stupid as Alfred would ever go this far.

"Do you know how long I've been under your spell? Natalya, such a beautiful creature. So mysterious, and deadly. Everyone must go head over heels for a vixen like you," he grinned, and held her chin between his thumb and index finger. Natalya shook her head, still reaching for the knife. Even on her tiptoes she couldn't even reach his wrist. She let out a sigh of frustration, and grabbed his forearm.

"Give me my fucking knife back, bastard! I rarely know you, but you've been eyeing me like a stupid puppy!" she said, gritting her teeth together.

"What's the magic word, Missy?" he teased.

"My name is Natalya, not Missy. Just give me the damn knife, and maybe I'd spare you," she replied.

"Someone is quite persistent, huh?"

"Nyet, I just want my knife, that you won't give to me!"

"Maybe I'll give you the knife, under one condition." Natalya looked up, and let go of his forearm. Hopefully, he didn't come up with some idiotic deal, over a knife. She sighed, and puffed out her cheeks.

"Fine, what is it?" she asked. A sly grin appeared on his face, and he leaned over to whisper in her ear.

"Give me a kiss, sweetheart."

The Belarusian's eyes widened, and she blushed. "I. . . What?"

"You heard me, Nat. Give me a kiss, or I might force it on you."

"Fine, but that's all you're getting," she sighed as he pulled her into his arms. As much as she really didn't want to do this, she obliged and leaned up to kiss him quickly. Alfred shook his head in disapproval, and tightened his grip on her.

"You call a peck a kiss? This is what it should be like," he said, before smashing his lips against hers. Natalya's face grew a bright, red blush, and she tried her best not to give in. It was a challenge for Alfred to try and get her to return the affection, but he didn't fail. Eventually, she felt herself give in, and kiss him back roughly. Tongue ran over tongue, and arms snaked around each other. Alfred pulled away, quite satisfied of what he received.

"Are you happy now?" she asked.

"Of course I am. You are quite passionate for being so murderous," he chuckled, and handed her back the knife she had. Natalya slipped it back in the knife holder on her leg, and gave it a shrug.

"You're lucky I didn't try to kill you, puppy eyes," she said.

"Then what should I call you, if I have the nickname of 'puppy eyes?'"

"Call me Miss Murder," she said, and turned to walk away. The American grabbed her shoulder, and nodded.

"You promise to return to me?" he asked, looking at her long, blonde hair flowing down her back.

"Maybe, but that's if I don't plot to kill you," she replied, glancing back at him with a slight smirk. Her smirk faded, and she shook his hand off of her shoulder.

"I must go now, but don't tell anyone about this." She walked away, now turning down the corridor.

"See you soon, Miss Murder."