Author's Note: Just read. Just read.

Once upon a time, there was a happy couple named fem!England and fem!America. Well, they also went by Alice and Emily. But they were a couple. And they were very happy together.

But you see, this made two others very unhappy. Because England (Arthur) and America (Alfred) were each in love with one member of the happy couple—Arthur with Emily and Alfred with Alice. Not with their own fem!selves. Because that would be weird. Not to mention a little narcissistic. Anyway, Emily and Alice had been together a long time, and this made Arthur and Alfred both very sad. They plotted and plotted, night and day, trying to find a way to break up this happy couple, but in the end they decided that maybe their love's happiness was more important than their own.

That lasted a day. Then they turned to each other, shook their heads, and said, "Bullshit." And the plotting resumed.

One day, Canada was being a bitch to Alfred because Canada is just a bitch. Canada was good friends with Emily and Alice, which Alfred and Arthur did not understand because while he had great fashion sense, Canada was bitch. This has nothing at all to do with the story. I just thought I should throw in the fact that Canada's kind of a bitch.

But France was very nice. And France listened to Alfred's problems, as did Lithuania and Greece. And Italy. But not China, because he's a creepy-ass mothafucka. And not Canada. Because Canada is a bitch. And his friend's words made Alfred strong. Arthur had currently been a bad boy and lost all connection to his country brethren, but he was still friends with them and found other ways to communicate. (Except to Canada, because Canada is a bitch.) This made him strong.

GUESS WHAT. I'M TYPING THIS IN MICROSOFT WORD. AND I'M ON PAGE TWO, MOTHAFUCKA. TAKE THAT, CANADA.

So anyway, Arthur often enjoyed having long heart-to-heart conversations with Alice about how much he loved Emily, but she used a different name so Alice would not catch on. And she really didn't, which was kind of stupid, but Alfred loves her anyway. Alfred himself only got up the balls to talk to Alice twice—once when he had Arthur to back him up, and another time when she sadly did not respond.

For those of you with short attention spans (like Italy. or Canada. Because he's a bitch.) I will throw in a musical interlude in which Russia is black and there's a surprise guest appearance by MICHAEL JACKSON, whose blackness Russia had stolen to obtain his current skin tone and the Arctic oil.

OH WAIT. I FORGOT. Michael Jackson's dead. I can't make a joke about a dead guy.

…what the hell, yes I can. 'Cause over the course of a good few years, Russia stoled his black, his swagga, yo. Imma from da hood.

ANYVAYS. Vhere vere ve? Ohyes. German accents are amusing, da? …wait that's Russian. I mean black. Nevermind.

So it was a World Meeting one sunny January night in northern Norway (haha. That rhymes. Oh wait, no it doesn't…) and Arthur and Alfred were ready to sexually pounce. They put on their military uniforms and headed for the meetingroom, where they were greeted by a grinning and scantily-clad Emily and Alice.

"Where are your clothes?" asked Arthur, always the Henry Higgins of the group.

"I never wear clothes," Emily made a valid point. "And today Alice just decided to leave her clothes at home for a change."

Alice nodded. "The British in me is saying it's inappropriate, but the green and orange striped talking muffin told me to be promiscuous today."

The three others nodded. They were used to Alice's hallucinations by now. England saw them sometimes too, but his talking muffins were purple and orange, not green.

"So," Alfred spoke up, always the smartest one in the room (IT'S FUNNY BECAUSE HE'S NOT SMART. BUT AT LEAST HE'S NICER THAN CANADA. WHO IS A BITCH. SUCK IT. MOTHAFUCKA. RUSSIA IS BLACK.), "should we go inside the meeting room now?"

And then all of a sudden out of the blue Alice was kind of making out with him. And he saw out of the corner of his eye that Emily was making out with Arthur, too. He twisted his arm behind his back so only Arthur could see it and gave his friend/brother/dad/whatever the mothafuck their "special" relationship is nowadays a silent thumbs-up. Alfred didn't see if Arthur returned the gesture, though, because he was too busy making out with his girl.

Somewhere along the way, both parties may have taken off their clothes and done things I can't even write in an M-rated fanfiction (even though I'm 99.9997% sure this is gonna be deleted anyway for sheer racism and lack of taste). And China may have watched from the sidelines since he's a creeper, while Black Russia and Japan quietly took pictures to post on Facebook later that day. And Canada, meanwhile, was falling off a cliff, pushed by France. Because he's a bitch, yo.

JSYK, I have absolutely nothing against Canada. I think he's a very deep character with much hidden symbolism that points to very poignant aspects of our modern day world. And he's also pretty damn fucking moe. And now you're probably waiting for an explanation as to why I call him a bitch if I like him so much, right?

Well, too bad, mothafucka, you'll just have to wonder and not find out, won't you.

Russia is black. He is black-skinned. I'm 10.

JSYK, I'm not actually 10.

INSIDE JOKE, BITCHES.

Well, Alice was kissin' Alfred and Emily was kissin' Artur (yes, that h was left out on purpose. Because the letter h is a bitch. Because it's in Matthew's name. And Matthew is a bitch.) and this should go in the way of fluff but that's not this story is goin'. If I'm gonna rate it M for language and ideologically sensitive content I may as well have them have some pretty epic sex.

But I don't really know how to write epic sex.

So I'm just gonna say it. That was some pretty epic sex.

What's that you say, you little perverts, you? You want some more detail, a more drawn-out description of this epic sex?

Well then, my perverted brethren, you got yourselfs a paragraph.

Epic sex epic sex epic sex epic sex. Epic sex. Epic sex. Epic. Sex. EPIC EPIC sex. Epic sex sex. Epic sex sex sex. Sex epic. Sex epic epic. Sex sex epic. Epic of the sex. Sex of the epic. Canada is a bitch. Epicly sexual epics. Sexually epic sex. Bitch. Canada. Sex. Epic. Russia is black.

And now the story is over. Go away, bitches. There's nothing more to see here. Just Russia and his blackness.

And Canada and his bitchiness.

And Emily and Alice and their nakedness.

And Arthur and Alfred in their unresolved sexual tension, both with their girlfriends, and each other (USUK fan here).

And China and his blatant creepyassmothafuckaness.

And France and his surprisingly kindness in this fanfic considering normally he's a creepasmothafucka too.

And Prussia in his awesomeness. Though he's not really a part of the story, bitches.

And Michael Jackson.

Just Michael Jackson.

And Spain in his pedoness—

That was not a Michael Jackson joke right there at all.

Okay, this "and _ and his _ness" joke is gettin' old, mothafuckas and black Russias and bitch Canadas. Whaddaya know, that almost rhymed. Maybe I should make this brilliantly literate fanfiction INTO A SONG. So whatcha want me to talk about now, bitches? Want more sex? Or language? Or more racially inappropriate humor?

Or maybe you just want the fanfic to end? Maybe you're only reading up until this far because I've sucked you in with my offensive humor and you hate it and me but you just can't stop reading.

I'm thinking I should stop now. But you can bet on yo asses that this mothafucka's gonna have a sequel.

This is going to be so shocking for anyone who saw my first mildly feederistic Russia/America fic and was expecting more feederism fluff in a very literate, very white voice.

And I apologize. This won't happen again.

Except for the sequel, mothafuckas.

Maybe I'll even make it into a mothafuckin' trilogy.

I'm thinkin' I should end this mothafucka mothafuckin' soon before not only I do I offend all o' my mothafuckin' readers, but this whole mothafuckin' website and maybe even Hidekaz Himaruya. Who is not mothafuckin', because I love his Japanese ass. I mean, I love him, who happens to be Japanese, and possess an ass, which may or may not be nice. I do not love his Japanese ass. I don't even like men.

Maybe I should stop while I'm ahead.

Or maybe not, mothafuckas, cause dis is so much fun.

Imma gonna keep writin' forever.

And ever.

And ever.

This mothafucka's never gonna end.