Letters from a Britannia Angel

England x Reader x America

Falling. That was the word to describe what you were doing. You were falling; into a bottomless pit, with no one there to catch you. You couldn't see anything anymore. It was just darkness. You were surrounded by a void and the only reason you knew you were falling was because you remembered being pushed. Tears slipped from your eyes and flew upward.

My hero, Alfred, where are you?

Alfred had always promised to be there for you, so why wasn't he here now? Just as you hit the bottom . . .

Your body jerked upward and your eyes snapped open. You breathed in and out heavily, recovering from your panic attack. You rubbed your eyes and discovered they were wet; you really were crying. You peered around the room you were in.

Oh. I'm at Arthur's apartment. You sighed. So it was just a dream.

The sun had just begun to peak through the window panes, and the room was dimly lit. Since there was no way you would be able to get back to sleep, you decided to look around. You threw back the maroon, satin covers and stepped out of the queen sized bed. Next to you, there was a huge bookshelf. Upon closer inspection, you realized that it was filled with English literature of all kinds. You noticed many works of Shakespeare, as well as some books by Charles Dickens, Jane Austin, Douglas Adams, J. R. R. Tolkien, and of course, J. K. Rowling.

Next to that bookshelf was another one; however, this bookshelf contained very few books. This bookcase was filled with model ships, and the few books that were on that shelf, you noticed, were about pirates.

So he's into pirates and English authors. You were fairly certain you had enough evidence to make this assumption.

The rest of the room seemed to be filled with personal items and clothing, so you decided to respect Arthur's privacy and not go through those. Stepping out into the living room you noticed something, or rather, someone. Arthur was fast asleep on the couch, with nothing but a blanket to cover him. You glanced back at the room you had just stepped out of.

He let me sleep in his room, and he slept on the couch. That's so sweet. I feel bad. If I had known he was going to sleep out here, I wouldn't have taken the bed.

You couldn't help but think that he looked cute while sleeping. His hair fell in his face, and his expression was one that you hadn't yet seen.

What am I thinking? You caught yourself. I'm dating Alfred, and I love him, with all my heart. I shouldn't be finding other guys cute.

It was true. You did love him, with every ounce of your being; which is why you never wanted to be late for any dates. The slightest part of you always hoped that, maybe, if you were on time for that specific date, Alfred would propose. It was silly to think like that, but you couldn't help yourself.

Arthur began to stir and you sharply inhaled and held your breath, in hopes that you wouldn't wake him. Unfortunately, it didn't work. Arthur sat up, yawned, and then began rubbing his eyes. He shifted his attention to you.

"Good morning, _. You're certainly up early." Arthur said, suppressing another yawn, "Would you care for some breakfast?"

You nodded, "Yes, please."

Arthur hauled himself off the couch and walked into the kitchen. You followed him. You had always liked to watch people cook. Arthur started searching through the fridge to find some breakfast foods. When he turned back around, his arms were full of a milk carton, a container of eggs, two packs of sausage, a stick of butter, and some substance in a small, corked bottle that was completely unidentifiable. He then searched around the kitchen for a frying pan. When he finally found one, he placed it on the stove top and turned the heat all the way up. You began to get slightly worried when he didn't butter the pan, and even more so when he cracked four eggs into it, then put the butter on top.

"Are you sure you know how to cook?" Your voice was slightly higher than normal as you swirled your finger while pointing at the pan.

Arthur looked at you seriously for a minute before pasting a smile across his face, "Of course I do. British cuisine is the finest in the world."

He looked serious, but that must have been sarcasm, right? You waited a moment for him to retract that statement, but he never did.

O-oh dear Lord.

You decided it was probably best not to watch him cook and went back to the living room to watch TV. You sat on the couch where Arthur had been sleeping and flicked through the TV channels. You'd probably been around the channels at least 3 times looking for something to watch, but nothing caught your eye. So, you decided to turn off the TV and check on Arthur in the kitchen.

Who knows what the hell is going on in there? I really hope he at least somewhat knows what he's doing.

When you reentered the kitchen, nothing seemed to have gone too bad. Except for the fact that somehow Arthur had managed to burn the sausage, turn the eggs brown, and transform the toast into charcoal. None the less, you walked into the kitchen with a bright smile on your face.

"So, how's it going Arthur?" You asked, trying to sound innocent and naïve, as if you didn't know he'd totally screwed up.

"Jolly good. I was just about to call you for breakfast."

You tried your best to keep your eyes from widening. Oh, he thinks this is edible?

You walked over to your plate at the counter and just stood there for a moment, glancing from your plate, to Arthur, and back again.

You finally shook yourself out of the shock and opened your mouth to say something, "Arthur?"

"Yes, _?" He looked back at you.

"I'm going to tell you something, and I don't want you to be offended or take it personally or anything. Okay?"

He nodded, a look of confusion plastered upon his face.

You pointed to your plate and looked at him, "This isn't edible."

"What are you talking about? This is the finest cuisine Brittan has to offer!" He laughed nervously.

"Oh dear. Arthur. . . THE ORANGE JUICE IS GREEN! How? How does- How does that even happen?" You motioned towards the orange juice and nearly burst into hysteric laughter.

"It happens because I'm a bloody amazing cook, that's how." He was seriously trying to defend his horrible cooking. You were awestruck.

"Please tell me you're kidding." Your eyes narrowed and your mouth fell open.

"I most certainly am not." He was serious. He really believed he could cook.

You laid a hand on Arthur shoulder and looked him dead in the eyes, "Someone was always going to have to tell you this someday. . . Arthur, you are a horrible cook."

He started laughing, "Ahahaha. Good one, _. Right. Now take it back."

You continued seriously, "You're in denial."

He looked like you had just dropped a two ton weight on his shoulders, "My food tastes fine." He mumbled.

"Okay then, we're having instant oatmeal. Where's the pantry?" You were done arguing with Arthur. It was ridiculous to try to convince him that his food sucked.

He pointed you in the direction of the pantry and let you make the oatmeal. As you were getting the spoons from the drawer, you noticed out of the corner of your eye, Arthur pouring something from a small bottle into one of the bowls.

"What is that?" You looked at him sternly.

He whipped the bottle behind his back and looked at you with wide eyes, "Absolutely nothing."

"Arthur, what's that behind your back?" You demanded again, now crossing your arms.

"Oh, fine. It's spirit water." He pulled the bottle out from behind his back and placed it in your palm for you to inspect.

You lifted the small glass bottle up to the ceiling lights to get a look at the contents. "And what exactly is spirit water?"

"It has special properties that turn food from the human world into food that spirits can eat or drink."

"Oh. Okay then. So that explains it." You handed the bottle back to him, trusting that he wouldn't lie to you and inside that bottle really was spirit water.

"Explains what?" He asked, curiously.

"Oh, I was just wondering how I could eat and drink things now, being a ghost and all." You felt kind of depressed. This is the first time since you entered Arthur's apartment that you remembered you weren't alive anymore. You'd been having fun, so you hadn't really thought about it.

Arthur was silent. He wasn't very good with comforting people since he spent a lot of his time alone.

"But wait," You were sad, but your curiosity got the better of you, "How can I interact with objects then?"

"I couldn't tell you. But who cares? I've got someone I want you to meet." Arthur smiled as he thought of a way to cheer you up.

He grabbed your wrist and dragged you through the living room to some random room. As you walked in, you saw what looked to be a closet to the left of you, and a giant circular carpet in the middle of the room. The room didn't have any windows, but instead was well lit by the ceiling lights.

Arthur turned to you, "Wait here." He then scampered off into the large closet to go look for something.

After he left, you grew increasingly curious about the circular rug. It looked out of place with the rest of the room, almost like it was covering something up. You walked over to the carpet and flipped the edge of it up.

I was right. It is covering something up. This looks like piece of symbol of some sort. I can't read the writing on the outside though.

You then moved the entire carpet. Underneath was a huge symbol. It looked kind of like a circle with a star in the center, and some inscription that you couldn't read around the outside.

"Hey, _, I have someone who wants to me—" Arthur stopped his singing as you turned around to face him with bulging eyes.

"Arthur. What is that?" You stood there shocked as you looked at your British friend, who was holding what looked to be a green rabbit with wings.

"This is Flying Mint Bunny!" His face brightened, "She's one of the spirit friends I mentioned I had." He held Flying Mint Bunny out in a failed attempt to distract you.

"No. THAT!" You pointed at the symbol engraved into the floor with a serious and confused expression on your face.

"That. Oh that, yes. Umm . . . Would you believe me if I said it was floor decoration?" He asked quizzically, rocking back and forth on his heels.

You looked at him, even more serious than before, "No, I wouldn't."

"Well then. . . It's a bla…." You couldn't quite hear him because he started mumbling towards the end of his sentence.

"It's a what?" You felt like you were a parent questioning a lying child.

"It's a black magic circle." He finally confessed, shifting his gaze to every part of the room except you.

You stood there speechless for a moment. You couldn't believe it, but you decided to just let it go. Arthur was probably one of the craziest people you knew, but he could see you. And that's all that really mattered.

You sighed, "So you're into English literature, black magic, and pirates? Is that it? Is there anything else that I'm going to be surprised to find out about you?"

"No. Not that I know of. Wait a tick. How did you know I have an interest in pirates?"

You blushed; you had kind of been snooping through his room. "I um . . . your room. It had a bookcase full of model ships and pirate books."

Arthur returned your blush and dug his hands into his pockets, "Oh-oh yes. That's right, isn't it?" He smiled at you, "My mum always used to say that I was a pirate in a past life or something."

You giggled. "I'm really glad you can see me Arthur. It makes me really happy to know that I'm not alone, and . . . and. . . ." You were chocking on your words and you were on the brink of tears. Despite all the distractions, this was really just too much for you to handle.

Arthur stood in front of you, and for the first time you noticed just how tall he was. He was just about Alfred's height. Arthur acted totally on instinct as he wiped away your tears and pulled you into a warm embrace.

"Don't cry, love," Arthur bit his lip as he rested his head on yours, "I don't know if I could take it anymore. Just be happy that your still here, and have people that love you, like Alfred. He wouldn't want you to be this sad."

It hurt Arthur to bring up Alfred in conversation, but it was the only way he could think to stop your crying. He couldn't stand to see any woman cry, especially if that woman was you.

"Thank you, Arthur." You said, wiping your tears and pulling away from his hug. You felt light a weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

Arthur was about to reply when you caught a glimpse of a flying mint-colored bunny behind him.

"Oh my GOSH! It's just the most adorable thing ever!" You said, grabbing hold of the rabbit and tickling it.

Arthur just laughed, "Yes. As I tried to say earlier, that's Flying Mint Bunny. She's one of my spirit friends."

"She's adorable!" You couldn't take your eyes off of this rabbit. It was just so darn cute.

"I'm glad you like her; even happier that you can see her. I was beginning to think I was going crazy." Arthur laughed and rubbed the back of his neck.

"You're not crazy, Arthur. Never have, and hopefully never will be." You smiled up at him, flying mint bunny cuddled in your arms.

The two of you laughed for a while before deciding to watch some TV. You both settled on a Doctor Who marathon, because apparently Arthur owned the first four seasons. Arthur offered to make the popcorn, and you let him after skeptically questioning him on whether he could handle using the microwave. So, the two of you spent the rest of the morning and afternoon on the couch, completely absorbed by the adventures of the Doctor and his companions.

When dinner time rolled around, you forced Arthur to go get some Chinese food from the place up the street. While he was out, you set the table, which took longer than it should have, because you didn't know where anything was. When Arthur returned, the two of you ate a proper meal. Afterwards, Arthur showed you around the rest of his apartment, which wasn't nearly as exciting as the rooms you had seen this morning.

Time seemed to fly and the clocks soon flashed 9:02 pm. You had begged Arthur to let you sleep on the couch tonight, but he wouldn't hear anything of it.

"What kind of gentleman would I be if I let a lady sleep on the couch?" He had said.

You could tell that was one argument you weren't going to win, so you just accepted it. Arthur lent you another pair of his clothes to sleep in; this time it was a white V-neck shirt and a pair of Union Jack boxers. You giggled; you were holding Arthur's boxers.

Heat rose to his cheeks as he tried to evade your eyes, "I-it's all I can think to give you. It's the start of summer anyways, so we'll go shopping for you tomorrow."

That's right. School ended a couple days ago. Alfred and I were meeting at the park to hang out in the nice weather.

You brushed those thoughts out of your mind and nodded, "Okay. That sounds fun."

Arthur nodded back and left. You decided it was a good time to write your letter to Alfred, since you probably wouldn't have time tomorrow. You grabbed some lined notebook paper and pencils from Arthur's desk, and began to bleed your heart out onto that sheet of paper.