#aph libertea

[keepingthetheme]

Alfred, presenting a meeting: Like this and I'll anonymously rate you

Alfred, 0.1 second later, pointing at Arthur: 10/10, would fuck, have fucked, would fuck again

[izzygonzo]

Personally this is the best I've drawn full body characters (though I know my skills are -10). Hope anyone scrolling past appreciates the USUK Cardverse~ I added the background cause white looked boring

[prussiumscribbles]

Hi i have a prompt usuk cardverse au where arthur is a peasant/ part of the rebellion against the royals and ends up getting catched by guards and brought to the castle to be trialed only it ends up he has the queen mark

The rebellion had been betrayed. Someone had been passing information to the royal forces all this time.

The thought rippled in Arthur’s head as he flailed and kicked to flee the royal guards that had captured him and the other rebels. Chaos prowled the streets. People were running in all directions, screaming in confusion and fear.

Spite swelled in Arthur’s chest. Months and months of secret meetings and preparations had led to this. The people were expecting them to end the tyrannous reign of the royals, and now, they had failed.

Chains bound his wrists so tightly that it was impossible to wriggle out of them. Two guards, one on either side of him, dragged him inside the palace and straight to the throne room. Purple and white drapes adorned all corners of the room. Opulent chandeliers hung from the golden ceiling, and the polished marble floor reflected the figures that stepped on it. All of the decorations could have taken the breath out of him if he wasn’t facing the end of his life.

In front of them, the King, the Queen, and the Prince sat on the dais, expecting them. Revulsion coiled in Arthur’s stomach. How could they sit on their thrones, doing nothing, while their people starved and died of illness?

Loud echoes seized the throne room as Arthur and the other rebels were hurled across the marble floor. He raised his head and found Prince Alfred, the royal heir of Spades, eyeing him with interest. He radiated privilege and arrogance, just as sheltered as Arthur expected. Groomed to perfection, raised to protect the interests of those living inside the inner walls of their kingdom. He would be no better than his father when the time came. Arthur set his jaw, looking back at Prince Alfred defiantly under his eyelashes.

“Sire,” spoke the guard that held him, bowing low, “The royal guards had caught the traitors that had been plotting against His Majesty’s kingdom.”

The King looked very pleased, and started asking questions. “…Do you deny plotting against my kingdom?…”

Nobody denied the true nature of the rebellion. The crown had failed their people and the rebels took it upon themselves to save the helpless with their noble cause. They would die with their heads held high.

“I hereby declare all of you guilty of treason…”

Arthur was barely listening when the King instructed the guards to take them to the dungeons for the night. They would be hanged at the town square tomorrow, by dawn.

Pain struck Arthur’s injured body as a guard seized him from the cuff of his neck.

“Halt!” Prince Alfred’s voice resonated across the room.

Everyone froze, gripped with bewilderment, as he stood from his throne and approached Arthur.

Suddenly forgetting how to breathe, Arthur stared at the Prince. He would like to take a good look at his tyrant before they sent him to his death. His flaxen hair framed his handsome face perfectly under a bejewelled crown, his regal blue eyes filled with a shade of curiosity as they lingered on the side of Arthur’s neck.

An odd birthmark sat there, shaped like a spade or an upside down heart. Arthur had the urge to cover it with his collar, thinking the Prince would like to mock him for having the mark, as if being sentenced to death wasn’t enough.

But before he could move, Prince Alfred was gently running his fingers across the length of his neck. Goosebumps erupted on Arthur’s skin as the gloved fingers touched him. He might have heard a soft gasp escape the Prince’s lips.

Prince Alfred examined the mark longer, his face conflicted. Arthur could feel a hundred pairs of eyes scrutinising him. No sound could be heard as the entire kingdom held its breath.

Then, with his low but clear voice, Prince Alfred spoke, “All hail the Lost Queen.”

His purple cape swooshed as he knelt to the ground, his head bowed.

Shock lingered in the throne room for a moment like a cold breeze entered the tall windows, but everyone followed the Prince’s lead. The rest of the court, including the King and the Queen— the people Arthur detested the most— stood up from their throne and bowed to him. At a loss of what to do, he turned around to see everyone on their knees. His throat constricted, his eyes blurring with confusion. He wanted to ask countless questions but his mouth couldn’t move.

Prince Alfred stood up and sighed with relief. His face was bright as though a ray of light was shining on him.

“We’ve been looking for you for so long.”

[rantingfangirl]

Ugh, so, I’m not really happy with this, but I hope you all enjoy!!

“I want you. Only you.” 

The cold rain hit Arthur’s forehead, trailing down his nose, and he supposed that it was his fault. 

Even as he stepped forward, Arthur wouldn’t- no, couldn’t- take his eyes off the body in front of him. A husk of what he used to be, the light and laughter and happiness faded from his eyes, replaced with dull shock. Dull betrayal.

As if Arthur hadn’t told him what might happen should they continue their relationship. As if Francis hadn’t nodded in agreement, and said that he understood and still wanted to be with him. 

Alfred put his free hand on Arthur’s shoulder, and it took all of his will, all of his power not to flinch. Not to shove him away and run from this mess, run until his legs turn to jelly and lungs dissolved into dust. Not to sprint to the nearest police station, then buy a plane ticket to Europe and cancel his credit cards afterwards. Not to disappear without a trace, to go somewhere where even Alfred, the psycho, wouldn’t find him.

But Alfred would, he knew. Arthur could have two, three years of happiness at the most, think that he was safe, that he was finally free. 

Only to find him on his doorstep.

And if he really thought about it, that’s where he went wrong. Thinking that he could escape him, that he could actually forget about this chapter in his life. What a fool he’d been.

Tightening his grip on Arthur’s shoulder, Alfred leaned in, his breath warm when everything around them was so cold. His voice as smooth as caramel, cutting through the noise of the hard rain. “Adultery is a sin, Arthur.”

Arthur bit his bottom lip, keeping his expression cool and collected. Disinterested. “Murder is too, is it not?”

Alfred hummed a favorite of his, one that Arthur hated with every fiber of his being. He shook his head, the tune fading, replaced by a carefree chuckle. “I always considered that up to interpretation, y’know?”

He did not.

“I mean, that’s one of the Ten Commandments, but then God just went up and killed- what? Millions? It’s kinda weird that he didn’t practice what he preached, innit?” 

It was not, as Alfred did the same thing. 

“And, ya see, Francis here was trying to take what’s mine. He was trying to take you away from me.” Alfred wrapped his arms around Arthur, pulling him close, burying his nose into the latter’s hair and breathing in deep. “We can’t let that happen, can we?”

He could not.

Arthur pulled away slightly, tilting his head up to meet Alfred’s eyes. Their noses almost touched. “Why.”

Alfred cocked his head to the side, the silent question clear.

It was a wonder how he had not started crying, had not even felt a tiny bit of pressure build up behind his eyes. "Why can't you let me be happy?”

Alfred’s nose scrunched, his brow wrinkling, as if he truly did not understand what he had done. As if everything that had happened in the past handful of hours had escaped him. “But you’re happy with me.”

Arthur shook his head, rolling his fingers into fists. “No, I’m-”

“Yes, you are, Arthur. Because you love me.” The color leeched from Arthur’s cheeks as he felt the tip of the knife press against the small of his back, and the only thought that he could process was that it was covered in Francis’ blood.

Alfred’s eyes softened as Arthur started to shake, even though the latter tried his best to keep it contained. “You love me, too, don’t you?”

Arthur swallowed, pursing his lips into a fine line. He knew he shouldn’t have done it, knew what could be the consequences for it, but he couldn’t help it.

Slowly, trying to suppress the heaving of his chest, Arthur turned to face Francis. He laid on the ground, a puddle of his own blood surrounding him. Arthur lifted his foot to take a step forward-

He flinched as Alfred grabbed his chin, fingers digging into his cheeks. Arthur met his eyes, and immediately looked away, biting his lower lip as Alfred yelled. “Francis didn’t love you, Arthur. He didn’t love you like I do.”

Arthur showed nothing, felt nothing when Alfred started crying, had no urge to wipe away the tears like he used to. A silent, dead, but at the same time, loud and deafening noise screamed through his ears, and he reached up, putting a hand on Alfred’s shoulder, squeezing tight.

“You love me, Arthur? Right?” Arthur didn’t respond, just squeezed tighter. Eventually, after a few minutes of silence, he nodded.

Alfred’s back straightened, and he smiled, and when he spoke, it was in a hushed, disbelieving whisper. “You really do?”

Another nod.

Alfred’s face contorted at that, and Arthur groaned as he was backhanded, pinprick pains stabbing into his cheek. The offending hand grabbed onto his wrist, holding it up as Alfred yelled. “Fucking tell me!”

Closing his eyes, Arthur breathed a shallow breath. “I love you.”

“You love me.”

“I love you.”

“No one else.”

“I want you. Only you.”

“Only me.” Alfred nodded, his angry sneer turning into a small, toothy grin. He giggled, clapping his hands excitedly. 

Arthur didn’t bother to try and figure out why- no, how, exactly- Alfred had managed to go from crying to murderous to the like of a toddler earning praise at just a few, monotone words. Didn’t want to figure it out.

He just wanted to go. Where, he didn’t know.

Alfred ran his fingers through his hair, his bangs, having been stuck to his forehead, pried off bit by bit. “C’mon, let’s go home.”

So many questions ran through Arthur’s head as Alfred put his arm against his back, leading him out of the alley. But a thick, opaque fog engulfed them, smothering them until all that was left were simple, “What if?”s. 

But even those were unnecessary now, as the damage had been done. The knife had slid in, stabbing and stabbing, leaving nothing behind. 

Even as they walked away, Arthur didn’t dare look back at Francis’ lifeless body. He just stared at Alfred, earning a giddy smile as a reward, and then, it happened. After a few, painful seconds, Arthur smiled back. 

[deliriiuumm]

Sky + Sea a USUK summer romance playlist 

Listen here. 

[prussiumscribbles]

For the dialogue ask "can we pretend I didn't just say that" UsUk

“Can we pretend I didn’t just say that?” asked Alfred. His cheeks burned as he kicked himself internally for letting the words spill from his mouth.

Arthur said nothing. With the way he scowled at his reflection in the mirror, it seemed like he didn’t hear Alfred’s confession at all. He ran his fingertips across his unevenly shaved head, his wide green eyes watery.

Now, Alfred knew why he didn’t show himself in school for days. Being in sixth grade was weird. People could tease you for the shallowest reasons. For instance, they called Alfred names like ‘Four Eyes’ and ‘Chatterbox’. In Arthur’s case, they pushed him around for being too scrawny and for having eyebrows that were too bushy for their liking.

On Saturday morning, Arthur finally turned up at Alfred’s door, wearing a baseball cap. He was always welcome to stay. Alfred’s parents were very kind to him, unlike his own who’d sometimes throw him outside the house whenever he did something wrong.

They played boardgames in the basement like they always did— Alfred’s parents had transformed it to a cosy den so he and his friends could play there all they want. Mrs. Jones brought them waffles and orange juice, smiling warmly at Arthur. He was quieter than usual, his eyes downcast, and nervously fiddling with the cap on his head every once in a while.

“I— I mean, it will grow back in no time… You still look nice.”  

Alfred bit his tongue. He couldn’t let the words slip from his mouth again. He just wanted to give Arthur reassurance so that he wouldn’t feel bad anymore, but a string of words escaped before he could catch himself.

“You like me?” asked Arthur after what seemed like an eternity. He gazed at Alfred with those wide eyes, waiting for an answer.

Alfred’s cheeks heated up once more. He scratched the back of his head, bracing himself to repeat his confession. “Y-Yeah, I like you.”

His heart clenched as Arthur’s lips stretched into a small smile— his face glowed like they were the nicest words someone said to him.

Alfred’s chest swelled with protectiveness.

Leaning closer, Arthur pressed his lips on Alfred’s cheek. “I like you, too.”

[prussiumscribbles]

"Are you flirting with me?” Usuk pls:)

“Are you flirting with me?” asked Arthur, raising an eyebrow and closing his thick Economics textbook to scrutinise Alfred.

He was having a peaceful time studying for his exams at the university library until Alfred Jones took the empty chair opposite him and dropped a pick-up line: Are you using the Confundus Charm or are you just naturally mind-blowing?

Alfred couldn’t shut up about Harry Potter ever since he found out Arthur lived for the series. To be fair, Arthur was quite amazed he didn’t come up with puns that involved ‘Deathstick’, ‘Chamber of Secrets’, or ‘Slyther-in’. That would have been disastrous. Only this pick-up line sounded more like an insult.

Arthur perfectly knew Alfred said it to distract him as usual, and so he asked the question to shut him up and it worked like magic. He smirked with amusement.

“W-What? No!” spattered Alfred. His cheeks were pinkish as he pushed his glasses against the bridge of his nose.

Arthur glanced at the librarian’s desk to see if Alfred’s loud voice disturbed her. Thankfully, they were on the farthest corner of the room and were not overheard.

“I just thought it was cool, okay? You’ve had your nose on that book for hours. I thought you could use a laugh.”

“Right,” replied Arthur, opening his textbook again to continue reading.

Alfred didn’t leave. He sat in front of him, wringing his fingers. “Hey, you wanna go to Francis’s Halloween party with me? In wizard’s robes, of course.”

“Okay,” answered Arthur at once, turning the page and not looking up.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Yes!” Alfred thrusted his fist in the air, a wide grin on his face.

“Shh!”

Behind them, Kiku sighed to himself with relief, “Finally.”

[prussiumscribbles]

usuk, "You want me to do what?” If you want that is!

“You want me to do what?” sputtered Alfred.

It was Alfred’s turn to do the dare. Truth or dare was a game they’ve played since they were children, except their version had no truth and was full of dares. They thought the dares made it fun. In fact, they thought it was fun enough to play fifteen years later, even after saying I do in front of the altar.

“You heard me,” said Arthur, scooping a spoonful of Lucky Charms. “I want you to say hi and bring a cake to the new neighbours.”

Perhaps Arthur had a burst of inspiration from his cereal.

Sundays were supposed to be lazy. It was the time of the week when they could stay at home wearing pyjamas and cuddle all day— Arthur forgetting about interior design project deadlines, and Alfred taking a break from his restaurant chef duties. Their quiet morning was going along nicely until Alfred almost choked on his cereal after Arthur gave his dare.

“Why would I do that?” He asked.

“Why not?” asked Arthur, raising an eyebrow. “You’re Mister Congeniality.”

Alfred fiddled with his spoon.

“Are you scared?” asked Arthur, the tone of his voice filled with sarcastic surprise.

The new neighbours in question arrived yesterday, and the only thing Alfred and Arthur knew about them was they moved from Sweden. Alfred was easily intimidated by the taller one. He was so big and muscly, and he looked like he’d never smiled his whole life, making Alfred think he was the type who would bite his head off before he could open a conversation.

“Hell no,” said Alfred.  

“Get on with it then,” replied Arthur, a smirk on his face.

They never backed out on each other’s dares as they were determined to one-up the other to prove who had more bravado (or who was more stupid). They had wilder dares back in high school and college, which had gotten them into more trouble than they bargained for. Now that they were married, they toned their game down a bit, or else, they’d be kicked out of society and live as hermits for the rest of their lives.

Begrudgingly, Alfred started making strawberry shortcake. Arthur watched him from the kitchen counter, his chin resting on his hand, while Alfred mixed dry ingredients to bake the sponge.

“That big guy actually looks like our chemistry teacher in high school,” said Alfred, taking the tub of cream cheese from the fridge. “Mr. Walter, you remember him?”

“The one who almost flunked you in his class?” asked Arthur. “Yeah, I remember him. He’d always suspected I was doing your homework, not the other way around. I thought he had a big crush on you.”

He stood up to dip his fingertip on the whipped cream mixture.

“Mmm…” He said. “Tastes good, chef.”

“You wait for my next dare,” Alfred said under his breath.

Arthur smiled and gave him a peck on the cheek. He reached for the bowl of strawberries. “I’ll slice the strawberries. I won’t mess up this one, at least.”

Slicing the plump berries carefully, Arthur quietly relished on the domesticity of their tasks. Despite not possessing any talent in cooking, Arthur liked spending time with Alfred in the kitchen. It was Alfred’s favourite part of the house (aside from the bedroom) where he could express himself freely and share his love for food with Arthur.

When whipped cream covered and fresh strawberries swirled around the top tier, they went outside for the moment of truth.

Arthur stood in the garden, pretending to tend to his rose bushes. Across the street, Alfred rang the doorbell. As soon as the door opened, a Maltese dog started barking at him.

Alas, the intimidating man answered. He stood there wordlessly, staring at Alfred. He wanted to turn back already.

He almost sighed with relief as the other man came into view. “Hello!”

“Hi!” said Alfred. “Uh, my husband and I would like to welcome you to our neighbourhood!”

He pointed at Arthur, and his husband waved, giving them a winning smile.

Alfred handed them the box of cake.

“Wow, that’s lovely!” exclaimed the shorter man.

The intimidating man nodded.

“That’s very thoughtful of you! I’m Tino, by the way, and this is my husband, Berwald.”

Berwald grunted. Alfred felt himself melt under his gaze.

“I’m Alfred,” he said, stretching his arm for a handshake. “And that’s my husband, Arthur.”

“It’s so nice to meet you,” said Tino, beaming. “Would you and Arthur like to come over for dinner tonight?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” said Alfred. “That will be nice.”

“Does seven o’clock sound good?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, see you then, Alfred!”

“See you.”

Tino turned to their pet, and said, “Look, Hana, they brought us a cake!”

Then, they closed the door.

Fighting the urge to cackle, Arthur joined Alfred inside the house. Realising Alfred still felt sheepish, he stopped laughing.

“Did he bite you?” He asked.

“No,” said Alfred, lunging at Arthur. “I will bite you. In bed. Now.”

Arthur yelled and made a bolt for the stairs. Laughter echoed on the walls of their house.