Literature
Last Call Casualty
England x Reader
You were jolted awake by the insect-like vibrations of your phone on the nightstand. You picked it up and saw that it was just past three AM. You didn't need to ask who it was on the other end.
"I'm going to guess that you don't know what time it is, Arthur," you muttered, sitting up blearily.
"Nope," he hiccupped. He sounded distraught. No surprises there. The Brit only ever called you when he was pissed (read: drunk), and he tended to become more and more depressed with each shot of gin. Honestly, he was a lightweight.
"I need you," he said. At least, this was what you assumed he had meant. What he actually said was "Uh