Of Love and War: PruHun by vivtheviolinist, literature
Literature
Of Love and War: PruHun
"Well," Elizaveta Héderváry grunts, hauling the last of her belongings onto her packhorse, "I guess this is goodbye, Gil."
Gilbert Beilschmidt shuffles his feet in the dirt beside her, refusing to make eye contact.
"Are you really going to marry that unawesome prick of an Austrian?" he asks.
She sighs. "Yes, Gil. We've gone over this many times. I must." She studies the face of her closest friend. He's still eyeing the floor intently, shoulders drooping, hand in pockets. He mutters something unintelligible.
When he fails to answer her in a coherent way, she hesitantly adds, "It It's not like I want to, or anything."
His s
The Hanging Tree: RusAme Oneshot by vivtheviolinist, literature
Literature
The Hanging Tree: RusAme Oneshot
Ivan tugged at his scarf, and rubbed his palms together. He blew warm breath into his cupped hands in an attempt to prevent them from turning blue. It was cold, one of the coldest days in the history of Soviet Russia, but he could stand it. He could stand anything for Alfred.
It was almost midnight. The moon shone on the tree under which Ivan was waiting, creating an eerie pattern of shadowed branches, their twigs curled into misshapen claws, on Ivan's face. Where was he? Ivan shoved his hands in his pockets, anxiously waiting.
His fingers brushed against the two coils of coarse rope he had prepared earlier.
The minutes ticked by at an ant
On Rainy Days: USUK/FrUK Oneshot by vivtheviolinist, literature
Literature
On Rainy Days: USUK/FrUK Oneshot
He should've stopped when he heard himself mutter, "Am I Catholic? Or am I Protestant?"
It was too late now, though. Arthur was so very stupid sometimes, despite his elegant, sophisticated English gentlemanly demeanor. The combination of alcohol and relentless rain, hammering down like bullets, had dragged out all the erased memories. He could see him, beckoning and calling out to him, torturing Arthur.
He didn't remember stepping out, but the next thing he knew, he was standing outside in the bitter cold, looking into the windows of the warm pub, the rain stinging and lashing at his face.
And then he wasn't standing there anymore
I
Hallucinations: USUK Oneshot by vivtheviolinist, literature
Literature
Hallucinations: USUK Oneshot
Arthur woke up gasping for breath, swimming in his bedsheets and a pool of his own sweat.
It took him a moment to ensure that he wasn't still trapped in his mind.
The hallucinations were always so real. They were vivid and pertained to all of Arthur's five senses. The flames that licked away at the layers of his skin, the sharp fingernails that raked across his body, drawing blood; the white-hot knives sinking their razor-sharp teeth into his arms, intent on lacerating him, and the short stretch of rough rope, handled by unseen hands, pressed against his windpipe, slowly causing him to turn blue with asphyxiation...
Arthur shuddered again,
Isolated: Snapped!Iceland Oneshot by vivtheviolinist, literature
Literature
Isolated: Snapped!Iceland Oneshot
In my house, there is a large, framed picture of the five of us.
Actually, there are many photos of us five. Six, if you want to count that half-sized little twit.
Even in photos, it's noticeable.
Maybe that's what instigated my decision. The pictures. I don't know. To borrow an overused phrase, I don't know anything anymore.
I think it was just too much. This feeling just built up and accumulated over time.
Take, for example, last week.
"Berwald. Tino. Hi," I had greeted, stepping into their house.
"Peter!! Don't- no, STOP!" yelped Tino, rushing past me to tend to his 'son.'
"Busy, huh, Berwald?" I remarked, but that
Lonely: IcelandxReader by vivtheviolinist, literature
Literature
Lonely: IcelandxReader
Lonely.
It's a word that Emil has known for all his life.
He lives it everyday.
Sure, he was part of the five fabulous Nordics. But he was the isolated islander, the extra. The one that was always left out. The other Nordics had each otherBerwald and Tino were always a pair, and even his brother, Lukas, routinely abandoned him for Matthias.
All he got was the talking puffin.
Therefore, it was in complete understanding that he wasn't looking forward to meeting ______________, a new Nordic micro-nation. After all, it was inevitable that she'd discard him like his fellow Nordics did.
"C'mon, Emil!!" came a voice from outside his fron
Fiction: PruHun Oneshot by vivtheviolinist, literature
Literature
Fiction: PruHun Oneshot
NOTE: This oneshot is loosely based off of the song 'Fiction' by B2ST. If you want to check the song out, see the description ^^
Gilbert didn't really like to talk about it, but he owned a couple of journals. If you wanted to be difficult, then yes, you could refer to them as 'diaries.' Of course, he hadn't written in any of them for years. He was too awesome to be writing in some sissy thing like that.
Another thing Gilbert didn't like to talk about was Elizaveta. In fact, he didn't even like to think about Elizaveta.
Lately, he couldn't help it, though. Ever since Liz had left him for that that insufferable Roderich, his thoug
Tomorrow: Spamano--Alternative Fluff, Part 2 by vivtheviolinist, literature
Literature
Tomorrow: Spamano--Alternative Fluff, Part 2
NOTE: This is the alternative fluffy ending to part 1 (obviously xD). See link in the description for the first part :3
Quadruple-checking that no one was around him, Lovino buried his head into his arms, and allowed himself a few tears. Dammit, it was true, wasn't it? No one liked him, let alone Antonio. That stupid bastardo. Actually, Lovino himself was also an idiot; he had let himself believe that perhaps Antonio cared; perhaps he had a shot at love He knew better, now. He would lock away his heart from now on; there was no need for love, or Antonio. The stupid bastardo could go with his equally idiotic friends, and Lovino wouldn't
NOTE: For all you fluff fans out there, there is an alternative fluff ending part 2 (link is in the description). However, this works as a oneshot as well, in my opinion...
Today is going to be the day. I will definitely tell him today, for sure. No more excuses. No more putting it off.
This was Lovino Vargas's resolution as he grabbed his backpack, and walked out of his house to school.
Lovino was in love with that bastardo, that Antonio. He loved his beautiful, tan face, his twinkling green eyes, and his luscious chocolate hair. Hell, he loved everything about Antonio.
He could never fathom if Antonio liked him back or not. Sometimes, h
Hate: SuFin Oneshot by vivtheviolinist, literature
Literature
Hate: SuFin Oneshot
Berwald hates me.
Why else would he glower at me peevishly every time we make eye contact?
Why else would he only reply in grunts and unintelligible mumbles whenever I talk to him?
But sometimes, Berwald will show sporadic acts of kindness, and those capricious deeds will have me wishing with every fiber of my being that I could tell him, right then and there, that I love him.
I recall the night we ran away from Matthias together, and how he had covered me with his blanket until he was sure that I was warm.
I flashback to the day where he had arbitrarily called me his 'wife,' even though I'm sure that he had only been joking. I had