A/N: Can't... stop... writing these... O.o
Fairytale- Sara Bareilles
Alfred stared deep into Elizaveta's eyes, emotion sparking his sky blue irises. He held her hand in his own, thumb smoothing the skin on the back of her hand. Her expression was filled with sadness, and he imagined his heart aching and the situation as a real one. Her eyes brimmed with mourning, as green as a forest... not emeralds, not like he was used to, but maybe that was best, because right now any emotion in emerald orbs would be anger and-
Wait, no, mind-set. Stay in the mind-set.
"I don't understand," he said, hearing the loss in his own voice and feeling a bit pleased by it. "Why...? Why can't you come with me? I... I love you."
"STOP!"
All tender emotion left Alfred and Elizaveta at once and they turned to the director's chair, exasperated. "What? What did we do wrong this time?" Elizaveta demanded.
"Not you," Arthur Kirkland pinched the bridge of his nose. "Darling, you were perfect. But you, Alfred!"
Alfred watched as Arthur came up to him and hit his chest with a rolled up script. "Yes?"
"What was that delivery?" Arthur asked blandly, swatting him over the head with it. "This is a classic play, a story formed at the beginning of brilliant works of literature! Love at its rawest, purest emotion, and you sound like you're talking to your mother, not your princess!"
"Sorry," Alfred sighed and looked down at him, and his emerald, beautiful eyes. "More raw love. Got it."
"Try again!" Arthur told him harshly, walking back over to the director's chair. He gave him a pointed look. "Go."
Alfred and Elizaveta started once more, and Alfred put himself back into the world of fairytales and princes and kings and queens. Only this time, he imagined Elizaveta as a certain blonde Brit with emerald eyes that was going to reject his love, and repeated his lines.
After that, Arthur had no criticism.
Teenagers- My Chemical Romance
Arthur drew in a deep breath, the bitter taste of tobacco filling his mouth and lungs. It was a terrible feeling, having the stuff coat the inside of his mouth and throat. He'd seen the videos in Health, the pictures the teachers projected onto the whiteboard of blackened, disgusting lungs of smokers who died of lung cancer or some other shit. As if he cared- it was addicting stuff, and it looked cool to lean against the wall of the school in his punk clothing and watch the other saps walk into school and give him nervous glances. Mostly nervous, anyway- some were admiring, and he always did like the girls whose eyes lingered on his skinny jeans and ripped shirts.
Normally Arthur would feel a bit relaxed with his cigarette in his mouth and his "friend" (it was a loose term- Yao was more of a Goth then anything) puffing away next to him, glowering at the students walking into the building. But not today. Today, he only had the cigarette in his mouth because he needed something -anything- to quench his anxiety, and it was just so good to have some element of control right now. He stiffened as he heard a voice come from behind him, a voice that this weekend had sounded so, so much different.
"I thought you were going to quit?"
Arthur turned around and met the sky-blue eyes of the school quarterback, the jock, the person every single person wanted to be. He very purposely took a long drag from the cigarette. "Maybe I changed my mind."
Alfred smirked and adjusted his hold of his backpack slung over his shoulder. "Nah. You promised me you would, and besides, kissing someone who tastes like nicotine is nasty."
"Who said I wanted to kiss you?" Arthur muttered, but let the cigarette go and stomped it out. "Bloody git."
Alfred pretended to look thoughtful. "Hmm... well, there sure was a lot of kissing the other night, along with other-"
"Belt up!" Arthur hissed, looking around as though someone was listening. "Do you want the whole bloody school to know?"
Alfred sighed and ran a hand through his golden hair. "That I'm gay? Or that we're dating? Or that we slept together this weekend?"
"A-All of the above!" Arthur sputtered.
"Then yes," Alfred shrugged as Arthur gaped. "I'm not ashamed of myself. Or you, for that matter."
"But-"
"But nothing," Alfred stepped forward and caught Arthur around the waist and brought him forward. "I love you, and that's all that matters."
Then Alfred kissed him, right in front of all the students walking into the school.
Arthur couldn't care less.
10,000 Motherf&%kers (That'll Do) - Jason Mraz
Alfred walked into the bar, the scent of smoke and a feeling of drunken haze washing over him. The lighting was dim and orange, only a few people there, most of them swishing drinks absentmindedly in their glasses at tables as far away from everyone else as they could manage. The clock read four in the morning, and bartender looked tired and a bit grumpy. A lone figure was actually at the bar, slumped over the counter, a half-filled glass in hand, cheek resting on the cool wood surface.
The American crossed the bar's width and went to the counter, heart sinking as his suspicions were confirmed and it was indeed Arthur, with red-rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks. "Arthur."
Arthur didn't move except for his eyes, looking up at Alfred blearily.
"Let's get you home," Alfred said, prying the glass away from him and handed the bartender a one hundred dollar bill, hoping that would cover the amount consumed. He began to sling an arm around his shoulder and was surprised when Arthur jerked away from him with a small whimper. "Artie?"
"Can't drive," Big green eyes looked at him, obviously not recognizing him. "M'drunk. Crash."
"That's okay," Alfred told him. "I'll drive."
Arthur shook his head rapidly. "No. No. Alfred'll be mad. I dun wanna drive home. Crash."
"I'm right here, and I'm not mad," Alfred said gently, taking his arm again. "I won't let you drive, babe. I'll drive you home, and we'll go to bed. Okay?"
Arthur made a reproachful noise but didn't struggle as Alfred hoisted him to his feet. He proved to be so drunk that he couldn't even stand, so Alfred instead picked him up easily, bridal-style. The Briton immediately curled up against his chest fingers gripping his shirt as he carried him out of the bar.
"Alfred..." Arthur slurred, nuzzling into his neck. "I dun mean what I said... I dun like fightin'. I love you sooo much..."
"I know, honey," Alfred murmured, approaching his car. "I didn't mean what I said either. I'm sorry you thought you had to leave like that; please don't do that again. I was so worried about you when you didn't come home."
"M'sorry..." Arthur mumbled, a few tears sliding down his cheeks. "M'sorry, Alfie..."
"It's alright, baby. I love you too."
Lacrymosa- Evanescence
Too far gone.
No longer in control.
Someone else entirely.
Not himself.
No.
It's what it want them to be. It's in him, around him, sweeping and crawling through his veins and poisoning his blood black. Slowly staining his fingertips and spreading over the tops of his skin, cracking like dried ground, pieces flaking off and falling. Made of nothing but rock. Cracking. Breaking. Falling to dust. Traveling up his body, moving under and through him, over and above him.
Eyes like glass- milky and clouded irises. Black tears leak from the corners of his eyes. Mouth gaping wide in a wordless scream as it eats him from the inside out. Scarlet saliva drips from dry and cracked lips. His hair is falling out in clumps. He is dissolving, turning black, turning cold, turning dead.
Can't save him.
Not running.
Unable to get away.
Whatever part of him is left, the small portion that it has not taken... he stares at him, a silent plea of "help".
But the hero... he cannot save him.
What Makes You Beautiful- One Direction
"Hey, Artie!" Alfred waved his hand wildly, trying to catch the attention of blonde haired Brit walking in front of him. He pushed past a few giggling girls who looked a bit annoyed at his hasty moves, but he didn't care. "YO! Artie!"
Arthur turned his head as Alfred caught up and jogged next to him, a grin plastered to his face. He scoffed at his cheery expression. "My name is Arthur, Alfred. Kindly remember it."
"Sure, sure," Alfred waved a dismissive hand and beamed at him. "Anyway, I have something super important I need to tell you!"
"Oh, 'super' important..." Arthur muttered. "And this is different from the 'totally important', 'extremely important', and 'freaking important' things you've sprung on me before?"
"Very different!" Alfred nodded eagerly and Arthur rolled his eyes.
"Get on with it, I suppose," Arthur sighed. "I have to go back to the dorm and study."
"But the test isn't until two weeks from now!" Alfred said, shocked. "Right? That's what I heard the professor say, anyway. Am I right? Or did I hear wrong?"
"No, you're right," Arthur stopped on the sidewalk and crossed his arms. "But I have test in my advanced literature class later this afternoon. So spit it out, so I can get back."
"Right, right," Alfred stopped too, practically bouncing in place in front of him. "Okay, here goes: You're totally insecure, unsure, and self-conscious."
Arthur gaped at him.
"BUT!" Alfred held up a finger. "Until today, I had no idea why! I think you're amazing. When you smile, it lights up the entire room, and the one time I heard you laugh, I thought it was the best thing ever. You're talented and thoughtful and smart, and you've got the most amazing eyes..."
Alfred stepped forward and touched his cheek softly. Arthur swallowed, looking at him with an unusually unguarded expression.
"Then I figured it out- you don't know you're beautiful," Alfred smiled at him. "So I'm here to tell you- you're beautiful."
Lovegame- Lady Gaga
Arthur felt his entire body fill up with electricity, every sense suddenly hyperaware. Volts of pleasure shot through his veins from the tips of his toes to the top of his head, and he opened his mouth, feeling rather than hearing the moan that escaped. Feeling was all that mattered now anyway, because he could feel himself being filled, feel Alfred's breath on his sweaty skin, feel the way their hips moved over one another's slowly, but gaining speed.
"Nn... mmn... oh yes..."
Fingers dug into his lower back and hips, raising and lowering him and causing pleasure to arch and lick up his spine like flames. Arthur twisted his fingers in the golden hair at the nape of Alfred's neck, holding onto him as he was lost in those amazing feelings- Alfred's thighs quivering under him as he pushed forward over and over again, their hot breath mingling together as their lips brushed but were unable to kiss for need of oxygen...
"O-Oh... oh God, oh God... more..."
"Nn... yeah... babe..."
"Hnh... Alfred... f-faster..."
"You feel so good... hah... yeaaah..."
"Ooh... right there...! Yes! Mmm, Alfred... Alfred, touch me..."
Finally they found that it was okay to stop breathing for a moment. Their lips met fiercely, mouths hungrily clashing together as they scrambled for a hold on each other.
Playing their lovegame.
Untouched- The Veronicas
England hated watching America.
He hated even being in the same room with him.
It was so hard. He could see him, breathe him, and talk to him.
But it would always be someone else that could touch him.
England hated it, but he couldn't hate America.
He wanted him, he wanted to touch him and be touched.
He needed him, he needed to be around him and have his own presence be needed in return.
England couldn't resist America.
It wasn't enough to say that he missed him- it was an understatement.
He was going crazy.
England wanted him and needed him, but he couldn't have him.
There was someone else, there had to be.
Someone else was going to touch America.
And England would forever be untouched.
Long Time Gone- Dixie Chicks
Alfred sat on the back porch swing, his booted foot gently rocking the occupants back and forth lazily. He had his hat pulled down over his eyes and a piece of straw stuck out from his mouth, slowing moving up and down as he chewed on it thoughtfully. His arm was slung over the back of the swing and therefore indirectly over Arthur's shoulders as the 'properly dressed' Brit's green eyes looked over the barley field that stretched out for what seemed like miles as the sun set over the horizon and cast an orange glow over the wheat.
"Sure don't get better than this," Alfred said after a moment, leaning his head back and rolling it over his shoulder to look at Arthur sideways under the brim of his cowboy hat. "Sittin' outside after a long day's work. It's a beautiful world."
"Indeed," Arthur kept his gaze on the sunset. "We don't have views like this in London."
"I bet not!" Alfred snorted and then actually moved his arm to be draped over Arthur's shoulders. "What were you expectin'? Lotsa buildin's and fancy dressin'?"
"Of course not," Arthur looked at him then, raising an eyebrow. "I know what countryside is, you know. I've simply never visited the ones in America."
"And whaddya think of 'em?" Alfred grinned and tapped his nose. "Excludin' that cow pie you stepped in this mornin'."
Arthur grimaced and looked at the corner of the porch where his soiled shoes lay. "Thank you for that lovely reminder."
Alfred laughed, the sound carrying out over the farm. "Well? Ain't you gonna answer my question?"
"The correct grammar is 'aren't you'," Arthur corrected, then frowned and cleared his throat before attempting his best imitation of a Southern accent. "And... An' I thank that this here farm is the darndest place I ain't never had the pleasure of visitin'! Um… Y'all!"
Alfred blinked before bursting in laughter, and Arthur laughed too. It wasn't the farm that made this place better- it was Alfred.
Stuck Like Glue- Sugarland
"I was thinking..."
Arthur looked up from his book at Alfred, who was looking at the ceiling with an admittedly thoughtful expression. "Oh?"
"Yeah," Alfred shifted his gaze to Arthur and gave him a quirky grin. "I was thinking how funny it was that we could stay so long together when everybody said we never would."
"Hmm," Arthur shut his novel and set it aside, looking at Alfred with a curious expression. "Yes, well... sometimes I think they're right, and that maybe our love had died."
Before Alfred would give him an extremely upset and devastated look, Arthur stood up and went over to him, sitting on his lap and wrapping his arms around his neck. He wasn't sure why he did so, but felt the need to say something about this. Alfred often voiced his worries in the form of veiled comments, and it seemed he was triple checking once more that he loved him.
"But then you do that think that makes me laugh," he continued, smiling. "You know you have the uncanny ability to make me feel like a child again or at least a lot younger. You make my heart beat faster and pull me back in, over and over again. So, don't worry- I'm never letting this go."
Alfred beamed at him. "We're stuck together!"
"Like glue," Arthur agreed.
Lullaby- Nickleback
"You do know that I miss you?"
"I know... I miss you more."
America sighed and put his head in his hands, gripping the phone tightly. England's voice was a welcome reminder of the outside world, the world that wasn't a war zone, and he was glad to hear it, if only for a moment.
There was a yawn on the other end of the line.
"You tired, babe?" America asked, looking at the picture on his desk. It had England and himself in it, one of the few that he had where England was really, truly smiling for the camera. "I can let you go."
"No, it's alright," England did sound tired. "I just haven't been sleeping well."
Which was England-speak for: I haven't been sleeping very well because you've been called back to the front line of the war for a week and I can't be there to watch your back and I'm worried about you.
"I haven't been sleeping well either," America said, rubbing at his eyes. "I keep having nightmares."
"Oh, poppet," England sounded sympathetic; all nations had them. "I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do?"
"Well..." America looked longingly at his cot. "I was going to go to bed after I'd called you... could you maybe... do that thing you do when I have nightmares when I'm with you?"
There was a short silence and then a: "Get on the bed, America."
America did as he was told and made himself comfortable, holding the phone to his ear. "Okay, I'm in bed."
"Close your eyes."
America closed them, picturing England on the cot next to him, his voice clear and breath blowing softly over his ear as he spoke. "They're closed."
And then England began to sing softly, a lullaby that America recalled from when he was young, a tune and a language so old that no one remembered them anymore. America breathed in deeply, allowing England's smooth voice to wash over him and call him to sleep.
Just before he dozed off, he heard England say: "Goodnight, my love. Sleep well."
READ AND REVIEW! Dude, the Lacrymosa freaked ME out… T.T
And Lovegame was… hurrhurr… XD
...
Fairytale- Alfred is a movie star who just can't seem to get the love lines out... until he imagines that the pretty actress playing the love interest is Arthur, the director, and his lover. NAILS IT. :D
Teenagers- Punk!Arthur and Jock!Alfred are in love, but Arthur is nervous about what it means for Alfred... and how he'll react to him after they had sex over the weekend.
10,000 Motherf&%ers- Arthur gets drunk after a fight with Alfred and Alfred takes him home.
Lacrymosa- Alfred must watch as Arthur dies before him, succumbing to a mutant disease. D:
What Makes You Beautiful- Alfred tells Arthur that he's beautiful. :D
Lovegame- SEX. XD
Untouched- England wants America... but he can't ever have him. :(
Long Time Gone- Cowboy!Alfred and Arthur sit together at the end of a long day on the ranch.
Stuck Like Glue- Alfred and Arthur are stuck together, forever. :3
Lullaby- America is sent off to fight in the war for and while and England helps him sleep.