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kitaychan · 3 years

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Rare pair week 2021 Day 7

@aphrarepairweek2021

Prompt: Sunrise and sunset

Pair: Itapan

Rating: T

Sole

Quiet, diligent, soft, Kiku was from the country of the rising sun, Feliciano thought there couldn't be a more accurate way of describing him, there was a sort of poetic justice to that title.

Feliciano couldn't pinpoint the exact moment he started loving him, the Japanese man was an expert in advancing, silently but surely. Just as the first rays of sunlight in the morning, the light, almost non-existent warmth from his presence was soothing, an assurance of life itself, of the way nature was able to plot without us noticing it's plans, of how everything was a process.

It was Kiku who made him cherish the matutine walks, where the coldness of the night lingered on the air, yet when he leaned closer to him, the warmth was there, not overwhelmingly but always constant.

Thanks to Kiku, he discovered the perks of waking up earlier. It provided access to a rare moment of silence, of peace, the city would be empty, asleep, they could watch the birds welcoming the sun with their singing. The new day was just beginning, there was so much to do, so much time to spend and as Kiku preferred, a calm, personal moment to share.

A cup of freshly brewed coffee, a light breakfast crafted with care, the soft, first kiss of the morning, though rutinary, those were now the key elements of Feliciano's day, without them he'd be doomed, stuck in a cycle of uncertainty.

He needed reassurance, stability, as he didn't provide it for himself. The sunset for Feliciano, was a sign that the sun would be there for him tomorrow, renewed, to brighten his day, his life.

For Kiku, the situation had to be different, Feliciano took pride in being Kiku's wild card, if the Japanese was his anchor in life, then Feliciano was his boat, the vehicle for him to experience the unknown.

The Italian relished in taking him out when the sun waved them goodbye with its reddish tones. The streets were crowded, the cars flooding on the highways, the people returning to their homes.

Energetic, chaotic, kind. Feliciano would never go unnoticed. His spontaneity was sometimes mistaken with naivety, Kiku knew it wasn't like that, experience drove Feliciano into enjoying life at its best, into sharing his feelings, his musings and his knowledge.

It was then, during sunset, that Feliciano reminded Kiku to take a break from planning, after all, even the sun dealt with unexpected clouds. The collective feeling of tiredness, the dimming light of a dying day, were the signs Kiku needed to notice, so he'd distance himself from work.

Straying from the pavement floor and stepping on a crunchy leaf, trying out a new recipe, petting a stranger's dog or simply holding hands as they lay side by side and drifted out to sleep, though unplanned, those acts were Kiku's fuel for the next morning.

The best part of seeing the sunrise was knowing that the sunset would come, a sign that no matter how long the day was, the tired sun would always find its way home.

#aphrarepairweek2021 #aphrarepairweek #hetalia #itapan #hws japan #hws north italy #hetalia fanfiction #my writing #Ilich writes #ilich writes

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bearslikedilfs · 3 years

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Fandom: Hetalia

Words: 1168

Pairings: Norway x Scotland (Scotnor)

Warnings: Mentions of death and injury

Summary: A sudden change of leadership forces a prince to run for his safety- and his childhood friend with him.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31974280

@aphrarepairweek2021

#hetalia #scotnor #norscot #hetalia scotland #hetalia norway #hws scotland #hws norway #aphrarepairweek #aphrarepairweek2021 #fuckflorida-draws #shithole-state #fanfic #fanfiction #hetalia fanfiction

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thatsamericano · 3 years

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My Missing Puzzle Piece

Pairings/Characters: America/Romano, with background FrUK and FACE Family and mentioned Cankraine. Human AU.

Ratings/Warnings: Teen, for cursing. No warnings.

Word Count: 1564

Summary: According to the words written on his arm, Alfred will initially be more of a nuisance than a hero to his soulmate, but he’s eager to meet them regardless.

A/N: Written for @aphrarepairweek2021, Day 5 “soulmate.” Title taken from “Teenage Dream” by Katy Perry.

Alfred woke up on the morning of his sixteenth birthday more excited than he’d ever been. He was getting closer to adulthood, and like all teenagers on their sixteenth birthday, he would finally be able to read the first words his soulmate would ever say to him on his arm.

He ran into the bathroom, turned on the light and read what his soulmate had to say to him. Or to be more accurate, he tried to read it. At least it was in the same alphabet he was used to, unlike Mattie, who had woken up three days ago with a Cyrillic script on his arm. But it obviously wasn’t English.

Che cazzo di problema hai?! Mi hai fatto inciampare, stupido stronzo!

From what he could tell, his soulmate was having some kind of problem with a stupid person. That wasn’t an ideal situation in which to meet the fated love of your life, but Alfred, optimistic as always, spun it in a positive direction. He smiled as he thought of rescuing his soulmate from whatever stupid person was bothering them, showing off how cool and heroic he was, and impressing them so much that they fainted right into his arms, just like Superman had met Lois Lane. It would be totally epic!

His hopes for a heroic, comic book worthy meeting were dashed a few days later. On the morning of his birthday, Alfred explained his soulmate tattoo to his curious family, and his Papa Francis was able to determine that he probably had Italian on his arm. The following week, their other dad, Arthur, brought Alfred and his brother to a language learning center in order to have their tattoos assessed by the specialists working there. After knowing the language written on their arms, they would begin receiving tutoring in their soulmate’s language.

The expert in Slavic languages was able to determine that Matthew had Ukrainian on his arm. His soulmate had lost their cat and was asking Matthew for help. Matthew’s new language tutor took him into another room for his first lesson, and then it was Alfred’s turn to be assessed. When the Italian instructor, a balding, middle-aged man who introduced himself as Mr. Moretti, read what was on Alfred’s arm, he started chuckling.

“What’s so bloody funny?”

Mr. Moretti addressed Alfred rather than his father. “Your soulmate is annoyed with you. And they weren’t exactly polite about it.” He explained what the tattoo said. The “stupid person” (asshole, really) they were having a problem with was Alfred, who had apparently made them fall over, and his soulmate was wondering what the fuck was wrong with them.

“Oh.” Alfred frowned down at the desk he was sitting at. “When I saw that they had a problem, I was kind of hoping I could be their hero. Does this mean my soulmate’s gonna hate me forever?”

Mr. Moretti smiled sympathetically at him. “That’s generally not how it works. But helping you learn as much Italian as you can before you meet your soulmate will probably go a long way to smoothing things over.”

After that, Alfred said goodbye to his dad, who promised to pick him up later, and started his first lesson in Italian. He learned how to say “I’m sorry,” and how to tell his soulmate what his name was.

Nearly two years later, Alfred had graduated high school without meeting his soulmate or bumping into any other Italians. Matthew hadn’t met any Ukrainians looking for their missing cat either, so instead of a more traditional graduation present, Alfred and Matthew asked to go on a trip to the places where they would be more likely to meet their soulmates. First, they would visit Italy for a couple weeks, and then they would go to Ukraine so Mattie could get a chance to meet his soulmate.

After flying into Naples, Alfred was eager to immediately go out and explore the city on the off chance that he might meet his soulmate. The rest of his family, however, was exhausted by the long flight and insisted on checking into the hotel so they could catch up on their sleep and adjust to the time difference. Alfred went along grudgingly.

The next morning, after a quick breakfast at the hotel, Alfred, his dads, and his brother all left to go sightseeing. They’d visited the ruins of Pompeii and had been wandering around the Piazza del Plebiscito for a while when his Papa brought up the idea of stopping to get lunch.

“I think we should give it another half hour. Statistically, I’m more likely to run into my soulmate out here than in a restaurant.”

Matthew laughed. “You’re actually objecting to the idea of eating? That’s not like you, Al.”

Alfred pouted at his brother’s teasing. “I just want to meet my soulmate,” he muttered.

“Perhaps if you could tell us your type, it would narrow down the search a little, mon chou,” his papa suggested.

Alfred thought it over. “I don’t think I have a type. I hope they’re around my age so we can be together for the rest of our lives, but other than that, I’ll like my soulmate for whoever they are.” Matthew was fairly sure his soulmate would be a girl, but he was open to other possibilities. Alfred had no gender preferences, so it could theoretically be anyone.

His dad sighed. “So the plan is to walk around this city aimlessly until some Italian calls you an arsehole.”

Alfred glanced behind him to speak to his dad. “Pretty much.”

“And if they’re not here?”

“Then we’ll wander around aimlessly somewhere else in Italy. And then, if that doesn’t work, we’ll go to another town, until I meet whoever it is I’m supposed to—”

Alfred was interrupted in the middle of talking to his dad by a body colliding into his. He heard a startled oof, then whirled around to see a brunet man falling to the ground. He managed to avoid faceplanting on the pavement by throwing out his hands at the last minute, then quickly scrambled to his feet.

Alfred knew Italian pretty well for an American kid who had a French and English parent. He knew that in this situation he should say mi dispiace or ask him ha bisogno di aiuto, but Alfred couldn’t get his mouth to work. His heart was beating too fast, his stomach was filled with butterflies, and he’d scoffed at the idea of love at first sight so many times before, but he couldn’t explain his reaction any other way.

The stranger he’d knocked over because he hadn’t been paying attention to where he was going was beautiful.

Of course, he started yelling at him, with that phrase Alfred had first learned nearly two years ago and that was now making his arm tingle with recognition. The stranger was glaring at him, but Alfred was too mesmerized by his gorgeous hazel eyes to feel intimidated. He was gesturing furiously, but Alfred was awestruck by how cute it was.

He was grinning by the time the stranger had finished ranting at him, and he said the only thing he could think of. “God, you’re perfect.”

Alfred’s soulmate’s eyes widened, and he grabbed onto his right arm in disbelief. Alfred laughed and went over to hug him. But he was too exhilarated from hugging his soulmate to stay still. Alfred picked him up and spun him around. His soulmate hissed at Alfred to put him down, but he ended up clinging to Alfred’s neck in a way that suggested he didn’t really want to let go.

By the time he set him back down on his feet, his soulmate was blushing and smiling a little in spite of himself. Alfred beamed. “You’re the cutest person I’ve ever seen!” He turned towards his amused family. “Isn’t he the cutest person you’ve ever seen?”

Matthew chuckled. “Alfred, you might want to find out his name before you start telling us about him.”

“Oh right.” Alfred cleared his throat. “Mi chiamo Alfred. Lei… come si chiama?”

His soulmate snickered at him. Maybe it should’ve bothered him that he was being made fun of, but Alfred was too focused on how adorable he was and how much he wanted to kiss him. “Your accent sounds ridiculous,” he explained. “And my name is Savino.”

“Well, Savino, I’ve got the rest of my life to get better at it. Especially if I have you to help me.”

Savino’s lips twitched up into a grin. “I’m willing to give it a shot.”

Alfred introduced his soulmate to his brother and dads then mentioned that he and his family had been thinking about getting lunch before Alfred ran into him. He asked Savino if he would like to join them for lunch.

“I know a place not too far from here. I’ll take you there.”

Savino linked his hand with Alfred’s and started to lead them forward confidently across the piazza. Alfred snuck glances at his soulmate’s face and squeezed his hand, marveling at how right it felt to hold Savino’s hand, and how right it felt to be with him, even if he was only beginning to get to know him. The piece of his life he hadn’t even known he’d been missing was guiding him through a foreign city, and now Alfred felt complete.

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arternestkirkland · 4 years

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Can we just keep going with APH Rare Pair Week? Can we make it APH Rare Pair Month? I am loving all of this new PrUK.

#aph #hetalia #PrUK #EngPru #Aph england #aph Prussia #aphrarepairweek #aphrarepairweek2020

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panfrycek · 5 years

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day 2: music of course I drew chopol ( polska muzyka jest najlepsza)

@aphrarepairweek2018

#aph poland #aph polska #chopin #frycek #fryderyk chopin #frédéric chopin #chopol #aph rarepair #aphrarepairweek #aphrarepairweek2018 #hetalia #historical hetalia

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maelerie · 3 years

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I’m really happy that I managed to write something for every day of the aph rare pair week!! Even if it took me more than seven days to complete it, oops... I blame real life and work but also my own cripling sense of perfectionism. You guys don’t want to know how often I start writing something, get to the middle, suddenly hate it, and start all over again. That’s something I still need to work on. To just write for the fun of it, and not for it to be ‘perfect’ because perfection doesn’t exist.

I’m not sure if I’ll ever get there, but one can try!

Thank you @aphrarepairweek2021 for organizing this event! It got me back into something of a writing habit; I got comments, reviews and likes/kudos on my fics; and I made some new fandom friends along the way! <3

And now, back to your regular scheduled content!

#writing #fanfiction #writeblr #hetalia fanfiction #aph fanfiction #hws fanfiction #some last thoughts I wanted to share #I still need to reblog everything I loved from other creators in the aphrarepairweek #there is so much talent on this website it's insane #<3 #personal #about me

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orions-belt18 · 5 years

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Here’s my (late ^^;) entry for AphRarepairWeek!! I have a soft spot for Swisscan, you can pry this ship out of my cold dead talons. It’s supposed to be for history, but I was too tired to reserch so I went with Matthew trying to study from a textbook 👌.

🇨🇭🇨🇦

@aphrarepairweek2019

#Aphrarepairweek2019 #aphrarepairweek day 4 #swisscan #aph switzerland #aph canada #i usually dont like posting my art on le internet but like #retrotalia convinced me to so here we areeee #Ollie Drew Something

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coralcatsea · 3 years

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@aphrarepairweek2021

Day 3: Culture

England used his woodworking skills to make matryoshka dolls. Each one hidden inside represents different layers of Russia.

#aphrarepairweek2021 #aphrarepairweek #aph rare pair #day 3: culture #engrus #ukrus #ruseng #rusuk #aph england #hws england #arthur kirkland #aph russia #hws russia #ivan braginsky

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thenightlymartini · 3 years

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Special Headcanon Week! (#70) APHRarePairWeek

@aphrarepairweek2021

Day 6: Traditional Outfit

I’m not fully versed in traditional clothes, and based the pictures off of details I was seeing in general, so if they are inaccurate or something, feel free to let me know.

Headcanon #70

Kimchiburger: America had been on a historical K-drama kick for a bit and decided to ask South Korea how accurate the clothes were for their time periods. South Korea regaled him with various stories of how often he pushed so many social norms by his clothing and hairstyle choices, such as trying to put his hair in styles signifying he was married when he wasn’t or always being on top of the latest fashion trends, no matter how obscure or weird. At one point, America asked him if he still had the old outfits and if he could see them. Luckily, SK managed to find one or two still in good condition that he somehow managed to keep, and did a little fashion show. America loved how unique the clothes looked, since he knew more about kimonos (Japan) and cheongsams (China), and liked how they seemed a nice in-between; not overly complicated, but still regal and each part holding meaning.

Plus, he thought SK looked really handsome and mature. Like, he’s reminded of how SK is actually a lot older than he lets on, and the clothes bring out the intelligence only centuries of living as a nation can provide.

RusNK: When they first saw each other’s traditional clothing, they were shocked at how both of them seem to go the colorful and patterned route.

Like look at these Russian clothes:

Then Korea:

Seeing each other in their respective traditional outfits? NK really liked how simple yet formal Russia looks in his clothes. Like the colors just really suit him and he hardly ever sees him in anything that isn’t huge or extra padded due to the cold. Russia loves how regal looking NK is in his clothes. Like, the patterns and colors, can be both simple yet loud but balance so well, and NK looks so divine according to Russia himself and almost dignified, which was a big reason why he fell for him in the first place. Like, he loved how NK could be so dignified and refined yet approachable at the same time when wearing his traditional clothes.

Commieburger: America had become really curious as to what NK wore way back when, as he seen South Korean clothes. NK didn’t really understand why America was interested in such a thing and merely gave vague details, like he worse mostly plain clothing that still looked presentable and had braided hair. America vaguely remembered that NK had longer hair when they first met, and questioned why he cut it. NK simply put it as “needing to cut ties with the past” and refused to answer more.

America later found a picture in South Korea’s possession of the two Koreas in their traditional attire dating years back. He was shocked at how different NK looked, but more so at how genuinely happy the older twin was. It made him question what NK meant by “needing to cut ties with the past”, and got depressed thinking NK was forcing himself to forget because he may have believed that there was no way to go back to those times.

Later, NK questioned him on his traditional attire, since he was “trying to reciprocate”. America explained that he didn’t really have a traditional dress. Sure, some of the more typical styles were influenced by Europe, but he technically didn’t have a style that was uniquely his own. He explained that it was due to him technically being a nation set up by ideals and beliefs rather than a nationalistic identity like most other nations. His people were so diverse that he really couldn’t say something represented his people without effectively ignoring a part of the population. He admitted that he kind of felt lonely and different from everyone else due to that, since he couldn’t really connect on that level. Like, he sees everyone have these unique, meaningful clothing and he has nothing and feels like a leech when he borrows certain elements or traditions from others.

That’s when NK goes and fetches a measuring tape and starts taking America’s measurements, much to the absolute confusion of America. Few weeks later and America receives a package from NK that contained a custom tailored joseon-oth (called a hanbok in South Korea), and a note. The note basically stated how NK decided to get him a hanbok that represented him and how America should try making a collection of different traditional attire but with elements that represented the American ideals and people. What was unsaid was what truly made America emotional. The joseon-oth was white with a blue jacket, white meaning purity and blue more associated with the moon and the heavens (often more feminine), kind of like a dreamer, with a pattern more closely related to the idea of unity. This, seemingly what NK was trying to get at, was America as an idealist country where the dream was to live in unity despite all differences. This was NK’s way of showing America he can have a traditional attire and it still represent himself.

He later wore it the next time NK came to see him (he mostly got it right with only a minor detail or two out of place), and was shocked to see NK had brought his old joseon-oth for him to see (he didn’t actually wear it, but the thought counted). He also blushed when NK whispered that he looked really good.

#aphrarepairweek2021 #hetalia #kimchiburger #rusnk #commieburger #amekor #amenk #aph america #hws america #aph russia #hws russia #aph south korea #hws south korea #aph north korea #hws north korea #im sang kyu #aph korea #hws korea

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breitzbachbea · 3 years

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Anyways. Anyone else hyped for aphrarepairweek 👀 Pls talk to me and tell me what ship(s) you're looking forward to/are contribuiting.

#aph #hetalia #hws #beablabbers #last time I participated in an event was 2017 for rochu #the drabbles that came out of that are still some of my fave things

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koolkat9 · 3 years

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Rare Pair Week 2021 Day 4

@aphrarepairweek2021

Prompt: Historical

Rating: T

Pairing: GerEng

Word Count: 497

Who Would have Thought?

It was beginning to snow now. At least there wasn’t enough on the ground yet to postpone their game. Not that it would be the first time they’d verse each other in a moderate layer of snow. A Christmas football match between the two of them had been a yearly tradition long before they started dating.

“Is that all you got love?” Arthur taunted as he dribbled the ball around Ludwig.

Ludwig only smirked, catching up to the Brit, getting in close enough to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. For a moment Arthur stopped functioning, giving Ludwig the opportunity to take the ball from him and make a clear line for a goal. “Why you little bugger,” Arthur hissed, chasing after the German. Getting right up beside him, Arthur began shoving and kicking, trying to get hold of the ball. He wasn’t much of a threat to Ludwig however since he was no match for Ludwig’s strength. Within the chaos of fighting for the ball, their legs became tangled throwing them off balance. Realizing Arthur falling forward, Ludwig grabbed hold of his arm, pulling him hopefully upright. His attempt was in vain since he himself was off balance and only ended up pulling Arthur down on top of him.

Blue eyes met green as the two men processed what exactly happened. Coming to his senses Ludwig went to apologize, but a pair of lips capturing his own silenced him before he even began. Instinctively, his arms wrapped around Arthur’s waist, pulling him closer while Arthur’s snaked their way around Ludwig’s neck. When they pulled away, Arthur erupted into a fit of laughter, red-faced from either the cold, the kiss, or both. It was truly a sight to behold and Ludwig felt like the luckiest man in the world to be able to see this side of Arthur.

It was just like that Christmas night back in 1914 now that Ludwig was thinking about it. Arthur, slightly tipsy, had worn the same face and laughed the exact same way as they traded stories, hopes, and dreams. They may not have been as close or as friendly as they were then, but both then and now, Arthur’s laugh took his breath away.

They may have been enemies, but on this night, 106 years ago, he fell in love with Arthur. It would be decades before the feeling became mutual and they finally confessed. But that 1914 Christmas truce had marked the start of this budding romance.

Arthur quirked a brow. “What?”

“Just reminiscing,” Ludwig stated, bringing his hand to meet Arthur’s cheek. “I never thought we’d be like this 100 years ago.”

Arthur turned his head, placing a kiss on Ludwig’s palm. “Me too.”

The moment was short-lived as a cold breeze blew through. Despite the shiver that ran up his spine, Arthur pushed himself up. “That may be a sign to head inside,” he commented, extending a hand to his partner.

“Fair enough. Hot chocolate?”

“Absolutely.”

#aphrarepairweek2021 #aphrarepairweek #hetalia #hws #gereng #engger #geruk #historical #1914 christmas truce #hws england #hws germany #fanfiction #hetalia fanfiction #hopefully the tags will work today

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thatsamericano · 3 years

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To Be a Gardener in Love with a Prince

Pairing/Characters: America/Romano, Prussia cameo. Human AU.

Ratings/Warnings: Teen, for cursing. No warnings.

Word Count: 2440

Summary: Savino makes a flower delivery in the middle of the night as he usually does, but this time Alfred wakes up.

A/N: For @aphrarepairweek2021 Day 2, “Royalty.” Inspired by this popular text post, which screams Romerica to me.

Savino checked to make sure that the small bouquet of thornless roses he’d prepared earlier were securely strapped to his chest as he approached the castle entrance. Gilbert, the palace guard, raised a single pale eyebrow him.

“Again, Savi? What is this, the third time this week?”

Savino scowled at him. “Shut up.”

Gilbert laughed and got in position to lift him up towards the first foothold on the stone wall. “You know, it might be easier to just tell Prince Alfred how you feel. That way you wouldn’t have to climb into his bedroom every night just to leave him flowers.”

Savino grunted and stretched up to place his hand over a balcony ledge. “If I wanted your advice, I would’ve fucking asked.”

Gilbert turned back to watch the area outside the castle. “Whatever you say, Romeo.”

Savino frowned to himself as he leveraged himself up onto the balcony. Gilbert’s comparison was strangely apt. They weren’t from feuding families, but he had about as much chance with Prince Alfred as Romeo and Juliet had of ending up together. Alfred was the eldest prince, born with more wealth and power than most people could even contemplate. Savino was just the guy who’d been hired to tend to the plants in the castle’s garden.

Alfred was pretty strange, as far as royalty went. Savino had been kicked around a lot in his life, and most people from the upper class wouldn’t bother to speak to him, because they thought a title and inherited wealth made them better than a mere commoner like Savino, especially one who got soil under their fingernails each day from toiling in a garden. But Alfred wasn’t like that. They’d met one day while Alfred was guiding his horse back to the stables, and Savino had bowed and called him “Your Royal Highness,” as he had been trained to his entire life. Alfred had chuckled, told Savino he could stand, and that he was more comfortable being called “Alfred,” and that he didn’t think he was better than anyone else just because he was a prince. The entire encounter was bizarre as hell, especially when Alfred shook his hand and asked who Savino was like they were equals.

The next day, he came back, just to chat and get to know the new gardener better. Alfred asked him questions about the seaside town he’d been born in, his life, and his family, and he seemed genuinely interested in everything Savino had to say. Alfred kept visiting, and he talked about himself too, but not in a pompous or arrogant way. Usually it was funny anecdotes about his younger brother, his parents, or the boring meetings he had to attend. Occasionally, he’d complain about how he kept getting offers of marriages on behalf of princesses from other countries. Alfred didn’t want to marry some girl he’d met only once or twice simply because it would create an advantageous political alliance.

“Who would you wanna marry?” Savino had asked him once.

Alfred frowned thoughtfully. “I dunno. Someone who likes me, and I like her. Someone I can talk to for hours on end without getting bored, the way I can talk to you. Someone who makes me feel excited when I wake up, because I know I’ll get to see them that day.”

“You want to marry for love, then,” Savino concluded.

“Doesn’t everybody?”

It was at that point Savino realized that, against all his preconceived notions, Alfred had become one of his closest friends at the castle. A few months after that, he came to the painful realization that he’d fallen in love with a goddamn prince. It didn’t have anything to do with some silly fantasy about rising above his current station. He just loved Alfred, for his carefree smile, windswept blond hair, the way he’d take an extra pastry from the kitchen to make sure Savino got to eat lunch in the afternoons, and all those times he got down on his hands and knees to pull weeds out of a flowerbed with Savino just because he “looked like he could use a little help.” He loved Alfred’s tight hugs, his hilariously accurate impression of the king, the glee in Alfred’s voice when he called out for “Vinny,” the nickname he’d given Savino only a couple weeks after they’d first met, and the fact that Alfred had been so happy he’d bounced on his feet after Savino started calling him Fredo.

If Alfred had been a knight or a stable boy, Savino would have tried to figure out if he could be interested in men romantically. And then, if it seemed like a real possibility, he would have done something about his feelings. As it was, Alfred was so far out of his league that all Savino could do was pick a few flowers and leave him anonymous bouquets while he was sleeping. A confession of any kind was completely out of the realm of possibility.

After reaching that first balcony, Savino had to do a bit more careful climbing to reach the highest window, which led into the prince’s bedroom. Every time he delivered flowers to Alfred, Savino wished he could get into the castle like a normal person instead of risking life and limb. Unfortunately, Gilbert was the only guard Savino trusted not to run to the king and alert him about an intruder “harassing” his oldest son. If he was accused of trying to harm a member of the royal family, Savino could be sentenced to death, and Alfred’s protestations might not be enough to save him.

Savino wiggled through the open window, grateful that Alfred habitually left his window up in the warm summer evenings as he slept. Savino couldn’t have delivered his flowers if Alfred hadn’t been quite so trusting.

The room was dark, and he only had a bit of moonlight to guide him. But after so many clandestine visits, Savino was familiar with the layout of Alfred’s bedroom, and he was confident that he could tiptoe across the plush, carpeted floor, locate the empty vase on the third shelf of Alfred’s bookcase, leave his roses, and then retreat without Alfred having any clue he was ever here.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t counting on a footstool to be placed directly in the shadow cast by Alfred’s enormous four-poster bed. Savino stubbed his toe on the damn footstool, and hissed instead of screeching out a curse like he normally would have at the unexpected, sharp pain.

The bedcovers rustled as Alfred slowly began to wake up. “What’s going on? Who’s there?”

Savino clenched his jaw and silently prayed Alfred wouldn’t see him. If he just stayed perfectly still and didn’t breathe too loudly, maybe Fredo would assume he’d been dreaming and go back to sleep. Then Savino could get the fuck out of here with some shred of dignity left.

Too late. Alfred shifted up into a sitting position and reached over to the side table for his glasses. He put them on and squinted through the darkness. “Vinny?” he asked. “Is that you?”

Savino coughed and tried to deepen his voice. “It doesn’t matter who I am. Just go back to sleep.”

“It is you!” Alfred grinned, shoved the covers back, and bounded towards him with a remarkable amount of energy for someone who’d just woken up only a few seconds ago. “What are you doing here in the middle of the night? Did you need to talk to me about something?”

“I… uh…” Savino couldn’t figure out what to say, and he couldn’t figure out where to look. His best friend, who he was hopelessly in love with, was wondering why Savino had snuck into his room long past midnight. If he looked up, he would see Alfredo’s goofy, oblivious smile and his hair that was mussed adorably from being rubbed across his pillow while he slept. If he cast his gaze eye level or lower, he would be looking at the prince’s goddamn silk pajamas. Anything he saw would be too intimate or too much.

Alfred stepped even closer and tilted his head down. “Dude, are those… roses? Why would you have roses strapped to your chest?”

Savino squeezed his eyes shut and hoped Alfred couldn’t see how close he was to bursting into tears. “I can explain, Fredo, I swear.”

Alfred gasped. “Oh my God! You’re the one who’s been leaving flowers in my room! I can’t believe this!”

“I’m sorry. I know it wasn’t my place, and I had no right to—"

Savino couldn’t even stutter out a full apology, because the next thing he knew, Alfred was hugging him and giggling in his ear. Not only hugging him and giggling, but picking Savino up and spinning him around in the air.

After several rotations, he finally set a baffled, dizzy Savino back down on his feet. Alfred shifted back a little to beam down at him, but kept his hands lightly resting on Savino’s waist for reasons Savino couldn’t begin to fathom.

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

“I was trying to apologize,” Savino said slowly, to emphasize the words. “For breaking into your private bedroom. For giving you gifts that are a little strange for friends to give each other, no matter how close they are.” Maybe Alfred had missed the romantic subtext of everything he’d done? It was the only explanation Savino could think of for why he was reacting like this.

Alfred shook his head, still smiling. “Vinny, dude, you don’t have to apologize for that. The next time you want to come into my room, you can just ask. I don’t want you breaking your neck trying to climb a wall or something.”

“But what about the, um…”

“The flowers? I had no idea it was you. I mean, you are the gardener here, so it makes sense, but when Mattie brought it up to me, I was like nah, no way. Vinny’s way too cute and charming to go for someone like me. He could have anyone he wanted.”

Savino’s head was spinning, and his heart was pounding, but not from anxiety this time. “You’ve told your brother about me?”

“Heck, I’ve told everyone about you. I’m pretty sure they’re sick of hearing me talk about you so much. But the only people I’ve told everything to are Mattie and my manservant, Tolys. The rest of them would try to tell me I shouldn’t be in love with you, either because you’re a gardener or because you’re not a girl. I’d rather not have to hear their stupid opinions about you, because they don’t know shit.”

“You… you love me?” It sounded fake when Savino said it out loud, but he was only repeating what Fredo had just told him.

Alfred frowned, suddenly looking worried and insecure. “Was I not supposed to say that? I didn’t misread everything, did I? Were those just friendship flowers?”

Savino shook his head, crying and laughing at the same time. “Tesoro, there’s no such thing.”

“Oh, good. Does that mean I can kiss you now?”

Savino answered him by planting his hands on Alfred’s shoulders and leaning up to kiss him. Alfred smiled into the kiss and tightened his grip on Alfred’s shoulders. The roses were crushed in between them, but for the moment he had more important things to focus on.

By the time Savino broke the kiss, they were both grinning stupidly at each other. “Wow, we should’ve done that a long time ago,” Alfred said.

Savino laughed. “It would’ve been easier than climbing into your room to leave flowers all those times.”

Alfred reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “I’m not sure how, but I’m gonna figure out a way to be with you. Before we met, I’d resigned to marrying some random princess for political reasons. The best I could’ve hoped was learning how to like her eventually. But now I know what it’s like to be happy, to be with you, and I’m too selfish to give that up. I won’t.”

Savino swallowed a lump in his throat. “Even if it meant you’d have to give up everything else in your life?”

“Even then.” He brushed a featherlight kiss over Savino’s temple. “You’re worth it, sweetheart.”

Savino’s logical side told him he shouldn’t believe Alfred, because he was making ridiculous promises no one in his position would actually keep. But the way he was treating him so softly and the way he’d called him sweetheart made Savino believe him. He smiled as he pulled back and walked over to Alfred’s bookcase. He unwrapped the roses from their makeshift wrapping and arranged them in Alfred’s empty vase.

“The flowers I got you are horribly squished, by the way.”

“Well, that’s okay. I’d rather get squished flowers from you than unsquished flowers from anyone else.”

That sentiment was so adorably, earnestly Alfred that Savino couldn’t help himself. As soon as he walked back to Alfred, he kissed him again, and Alfred eagerly reciprocated.

“I guess this is goodbye, for now. I need to sneak back out before another guard comes on duty.”

Alfred tipped his forehead against his, and they swayed back and forth in a slow mimicry of a dance. “I’ll help you sneak in tomorrow. If you come by earlier, you’ll get to stay for longer.”

He’d love that. He loved Alfredo, and it was complicated, but no longer hopeless. He backed up towards the open window, and Alfred walked with him. “I love you, Fredo. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I love you too. Will you be safe getting down?”

“I’ll be fine. Go to sleep.”

Alfred peered out the window as Savino climbed out the window and very carefully descended down the castle wall. He was still standing by the window by the time Savino had made it to the ground, and he only left after Savino waved to indicate that he had made it down safely.

Gilbert smirked at Savino as he was walking past him. “Another successful flower delivery?”

Savino shrugged. “The flowers were a little squished, but I don’t think Alfredo will mind.” I’d rather get squished flowers from you than unsquished flowers from anyone else. Savino grinned at the memory of what Alfred had said. He probably wouldn’t be able to stop smiling for at least a week.

Gilbert’s chortling followed Savino as he walked down the well-worn path between his own small house and the castle where Alfred and his family slept. His smile stayed with him even longer, until he was drifting off to sleep in his own bed.

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