#HETALIA FANFIC

[alfredosauce50]

Yandere Denmark headcanons

Ruthless, ambitious, and with a mind for expansion, it’s no wonder he always finds himself in positions of political power. But like all men, he has desires of the flesh, the longing for real connection. He comes onto you as an ordinary man, and you love him as one.

What you don’t know, is that he’s the king. When you learn the truth, you pull away fearing for your own safety. But he holds onto all the tighter. With the nation obeying his every whim and every pair of eyes and ears working for him, he’s impossible to escape.

Content warning: Sex, violence, and dubious consent. R18+ only.

The nobleman

Mathias commands respect everywhere he goes. As one of the most powerful men in the ancient world, he has a potent presence that causes the whole energy of a room to change if he were to enter it. But he also likes to blend in when he can. He will dress down to avoid standing out, even if it’s still in clothes for those in the top percentile.

He often leaves the palace grounds to visit the city in person. Whether it’s for leisure or to see how his kingdom is doing, he insists on doing it without protection. And when people recognize his face as the same one on the back of their coins, he gives a reassuring smile as they talk excitedly amongst themselves. The King is here!

Chinese silk, richly dyed clothing, and the most exotic Arabian perfume. They’re everything you notice about Mathias when you serve him at your diner. A member of the ruling class, you think. But that’s all. The last thing you’d expect is for the king himself to show up in this humble establishment, fitting in like everybody else.

“Tell me, eskler,” He begins, watching you set down his meal in front of him. Lamb shank, mash, and the soup of the day. A hearty meal to go with the homey atmosphere. “What do you think about the king?”

“I don’t know,” You lift your gaze to him thoughtfully. Without batting an eye, you tell him the words he didn’t know he needed to hear, and would, in turn, change his life forever. “I’ve never met him.”

He’s taken aback by your response, but it draws him in like no other. There’s people who don’t care for politics, and then there’s you. Someone who’s never even seen him before. And so long as he keeps his identity a secret, he’ll be treated as an equal. It’s nowhere near the treatment fit for a king, but somehow, he can’t get enough.

Mathias asks you out for dinner. You reject him the first time, and understandably so. You don’t wanna accidentally become a part of his harem, or whatever it is the elites are doing these days. However, you eventually have a change of heart when you keep seeing him in your diner. Not to pester you about a date, but only to eat and chat.

“Seeing that you’re more polite than any other man I’ve met, I’ll take you up on your offer,” You tell him.

“Really?”

“What, did you have higher expectations for men?”

“No, that’s why I’m surprised you would say yes,” Mathias explains, following you with his eyes as you clear up the last remaining tables. He eventually stands up to ask this. “What makes me so different?”

The truth is, you sense that he’s a good person, and he’s shocked when you tell him. He tries to see himself in your eyes, and in turn, discovers a whole new side. Thanks to your willingness to engage with him on his level, he gets in touch with the more vulnerable parts of his character. He drops his guard, and feels strangely human.

He starts seeing you in secret. The moment he gets the chance, he disappears from the palace and makes a discrete trip to your home. His alibi? The same thing he’s been doing the whole time. He’ll always show up with flowers and other gifts, but more importantly, an empty stomach, having developed an appetite for your simple cooking.

“So, what are we having for dinner today?” He rubs his hands expectantly as he peers over your shoulder.

“Pickled fish,” You hum.

“Can I help?” He lights up, rolling his sleeves.

“You can help me by staying out of the kitchen.”

He’s very playful. Rolling around with you in the grass, pretending to bite you like a frenzied dog, it’s a timeless romance that transcends the ages. He can play with you like a child but love you like a woman, so being with him feels like a dream. His presence is just so fulfilling you can’t imagine asking for more, but he just keeps surprising you.

He spoils you. His generosity is magnanimous, pampering you with jewelry, dresses, homeware, and everything you could ever need, and more. Mathias imagines himself to be the solution to all your problems, and takes great pride in using his privilege to help you. Little does he know, it’s the one thing that drives a wedge between you both.

“This is really nice and all, but—”

Mathias is taking you to store after store, fishing out anything he thinks would look good on you. And he isn’t picky, or shy, for that matter. He will watch your silhouette behind the paper screen until you finish.

“—this is a bit much, don’t you think?” You appear from the side of the screen in a revealing jade dress, cheeks flushed. “I don’t need all these things, and besides, I could never pay you back if I tried.”

“Why would you pay me back?” He questions.

“I’m just saying,” You reply, sliding your hands in his. “It always feels like we’re from different worlds, Mat.”

He takes that statement personally and becomes cautious about protecting his identity. You hold him to a high enough regard already, and he’s only revealed so much — that he’s an aristocrat. Even then, you’re still wary of the class difference that sets you two apart. Mathias is destined for greatness, but this is all you’ll ever be. Imagine how you’d react if you found out he was the king.

He’s afraid that he’ll scare you off. All rulers have blood on their hands, a ruthlessness that evades the ordinary man. You would be heartbroken if Mathias were anything of such, and he knows. He only wants you to see him as the person he is when he’s with you. Kind, gentle, and passionate. You make feel like a man, and when he feels like a man, it fills him with a carnal sense of purpose.

He’s sensual at heart, so he can’t go without it. Not without you, or the intoxicating completion you give him. So when you start pulling away, he’ll feel the whips of panic because a part of him is slipping away. Every interaction you have with him will become emotionally charged. Mathias chases you like crazy, but you withhold from him, causing him to have frequent bursts of passion.

“I thought we talked about this—”

“—No, I thought we talked about this. You said you loved me, and now you’re not gonna marry me?” Mathias sits up out of alarm, then stares at you like you just betrayed him, because to him, you have.

When you argue

There’s no arguing with Mathias. When he wants it his way, he’ll eventually get it. And in that same breath, you can never stay mad at him, allowing for a vicious cycle that never ends. Something about him just gets you to forgive him before he even does anything. It doesn’t matter what the argument is about, or how bad it gets, because it’s guaranteed you’ll be kissing him by nightfall, and he’ll be making love to you until sunrise.

“What’s makes us so different to each other?”

“You know why,” You rub the tears from your eyes as you rush down the stairs. “I’m not your equal. I don’t have money, I can barely read, and I don’t know anything about the things that are important to you!”

“Those are trivial things! And they’re nothing I can’t give or teach you!” He runs in front of you, talking excitedly. And he believes in every word he speaks. “The fact that we’re arguing makes us equals!”

No matter how outlandish.

“It doesn’t work that way, Mathias!”

He uses sex to his advantage. You know touch is his love language, so it becomes hard to resist, especially after a bad fight. The tension calls for a hard release of it, which he does through a hot and raw pounding. It gives him the safety and reassurance that you will always love him, and he’s addicted to it like a drug. Don’t be surprised that he starts picking fights just for the sake of it.

“I’m gonna cum inside you, okay?” He pants over you, moving his pelvis back and forth in fluid thrusts.

“You wouldn’t dare,” You breathe under him.

“I would,” Mathias speeds up to a pace that gets his face to contort from a pleasure so good, it looked like he was in pain. He was going so hard and deep, his orgasm came in seconds, arriving in strong jets that fills you to the brim. And he’s not letting you go until every last drop of it is pumped into your womb.

He wrecks boundaries and shatters your mind in the process. He can’t handle distance, let alone tension, and will force his way into your world. You can’t help but let him, too helplessly in love with his smile and memory. He seems nurturing and giving, when really, he takes just as much, and if not, more. You don’t always realize that, and lose yourself as well as your ability to say no.

The King

He has a fierce intelligence that intimidates. Not only does he have one of the greatest military minds of all time, there is no taking advantage of him in political exchanges. He can read anyone with a single glance, then find a way to get out on top. It’s all in his slick grin, which goes away in an instant. Making it obvious he’s hiding his amusement is just how he mocks his enemies.

Mathias is above the system. He doesn’t abide by existing power or religious structures if he thinks they’re useless. Sailing west into an open ocean, guiding his people to enlightenment and discovery. Questioning rulers, then going so far as to overthrow them. He’s a dark horse when it comes to challenging the natural order, a master of annexation, a force to be reckoned with.

He treats those below him with respect. He will look anyone in the eye to speak to them on their level, no matter who. He’s not pretentious at all, but very understanding of people from all walks of life. Kind to the poor, merciless to the rich. Civilians are cared for by their king and love him for it, but the same can’t be said for high society. Not that they have anything to say about it.

Mathias is uncensored to violence. He wouldn’t bat an eye at the inside of someone’s skull, heads rolling, or spilled guts. As a king, he’s seen it all. He fights with his men like the God of war for all his incorruptible dreams, so every battle serves a divine purpose. If it means he can give his people a better life, give you a better life, he would gladly take it away all the same without hesitation.

And yet, when you come around, his invincibility, sharpness, everything that makes him ruthless, goes away instantly. That impenetrable exterior his enemies work tirelessly to get past, is broken. He returns to who he is at his core, a kind, gentle, and curious man because you see him as such. Being with you is like rising to the surface and taking a breath for the first time, constantly.

For this, he can never stop thinking about you. Every waking hour of the day, you’re on his mind. With the rush of politics and warfare, all he wants is to drown in your love, beauty, and femininity. You are the light to the darkness that pervades the world, your presence a sacred haven in all the chaos. It’s no wonder the world is made for two, because he can’t understand it without you.

That’s why he’s such an intense lover. Mathias will show up to your doorstep uninvited and beg for your attention like he’s starving for it, because there’s no other way to describe such a feeling. Whether it’s through talking, touching, or kissing, the way he looks at you is how all girls want to be looked at — a look with so much love, you can hardly return it. But he makes you every time.

He can stay calm even in times of conflict and crises. He knows when he’s in control, and this has served him well for many years. But if he does lose his head, it’s when you’re caught in the crossfire. He will do anything to keep you safe, even if he has to sacrifice thousands of others. He wouldn’t just go to war for you like other men, he would wage them. Start them. Finish them.

His dedication is the stuff of myths and legends, because if it came down to it, he would venture to the depths of the underworld to rescue you from the dead. Slay monsters to prove his worth. Challenge Gods. Nothing is bigger than his love for you, and he’ll make the whole world feel it. What he has with you is for the history books, epics, and sagas, but he’d prefer privacy over all.

You are his only weakness, so if someone caught wind of the king’s secret lover, everything would be over. Unfortunately, he gets too carried away by going to your home too often. To protect you, he has no choice but to reveal his identity and take you back to the palace. Dressed up in his most extravagant robes, he knocks on your door with a band of soldiers surrounding the property.

When you answer, the first thing you see is Mathias in his crown, and behind him, the royal guard. Your heart sinks as everything clicks. Why he was always so secretive, why he was always so adamant that you were his equal, his other half. Why the court advisors bowed before him despite being the highest ranking officials in the state, because he was above everyone and everything, all except for the Gods themselves.

“Let me explain.” He tells you, brows raised.

“I knew it,” You utter, slamming the door in his face. But nobody simply shuts out the king, not even you. That reality sinks in as he stays outside your home, asserting he has no intention to leave without you.

The honeymoon

The first week is the toughest. You feel betrayed and overwhelmed by who Mathias is, so you refuse to see him. He’s very understanding at first, and prepares a separate room just for you. It’s fully furnished, lavishly decorated, and filled with everything you’ve ever laid your eyes on. He’s been thinking of you all this time, yearning to be with you, but you have yet to give in. This isn’t the man you thought you knew, and yet, some part of you always suspected he’d turn out this way. He seemed too good to be true, and he was. After all, every force has an equal and opposite reaction, where his love for you alone goes head to head with his ruthlessness.

He tries to find you around the palace, which is perfect for when you eventually get cabin fever. You roam the palace grounds out of curiosity, even joining some of the servants in the kitchen. Mathias would never show up in a place like that, and that serves you well for a few days. You feel like yourself again and all is well, that is, until you run into him in the orchard, picking apples for himself. It’s the second time you’ve made the crucial mistake of thinking of him as any other king when he isn’t. No chore is too low for him to do, no place too filthy for him to be. You both stare at each other, eyes wide. Without a single word exchanged, you turn around and run off.

“Will you at least have dinner with me?” He calls out to you, watching your back grow smaller and smaller.

“I’m quite fine, thank you.”

“Please?” Mathias softens his voice. “I miss you.”

You can’t resist him, especially when he talks and looks at you like that. The man you thought you knew is still in there, and it sucks you in like a rip. You join him in the dining hall and have a meal together, even if it’s a silent one. You’re keen on leaving right after, but he’s quick to notice that. He’s never wrong when it comes to reading your body language, even when you were being subtle about it. Turns out, with him, nothing is subtle. He catches you before you get far, grabbing your hand and pulling you back. “I’m still the same person you love, so will you just stay with me?”

Mathias is sneaky. He’s really good at reeling you in and letting you think you’re pushing him away. And he gets closer the more he keeps doing it. He knows exactly what he’s doing, while looking like he doesn’t. His innocent act is more effective than you’re led on to believe, because you fall for it every time. Every interaction with him has a catch, just like the dinner that came with a stroll. And now, you’re in his bed a week after telling him you want to sleep separately. You only realize your mistake three nights in, curled up tightly in his arms, staring up at his tired, smiling face.

“What am I gonna do with you?” You whisper.

“The same thing you’ve always done.” He answers.

He’s comfortable in his natural state. Mathias has the body of a warrior, his skin scarred by all the blades that have touched him. Otherwise, he’s an impressive specimen produced from years of battle and good genes. Large, muscular, and well-endowed. If the weather allows for it, he’ll relax in the bedroom buck naked, and talk to you as casually as he would with clothes on. He doesn’t feel any shame or embarrassment when he’s so familiar with you. He can also work up quite a stink, so he makes it a point to chase you around for a hug. And he catches you every time.

He expects you to join him for breakfast and dinner everyday. Mathias has a lot of business to attend to in between, but wants you to be the first and last thing he sees. Waking up and falling asleep beside you isn’t enough. He also insists on taking all his baths with you, so you ought to get used to being naked around him. He’s the type to stare, and so much that it’s embarrassing, but he always makes sure to remind you how beautiful you are. He may be a handful, but he just wants you to be as comfortable around him as you can so you both can be like two peas in a pod.

“It’s not like I haven’t already seen every inch of you, so don’t be shy,” He wades over to you in the pool.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t stop refreshing your memory.” You splash his face, cackling. “Have some manners!”

He tutors you. Granted, it took a lot of convincing on your end, but you can’t deny that you want to be closer to him, and this is how. He teaches you all about his duties, as well as math, science, and literacy. You didn’t go to school, but he wants to involve you in official business as you’ll be his most trusted partner in the future. And if he sends letters, you need to be able to read them. He’s been elevating you this whole time, hoping that you gain the confidence to stand by his side one day. And when that day comes, he’ll propose to you in a way that feels so natural, you won’t hesitate to accept. If you see him smiling at you over nothing, that’s what he’s thinking about. You’re going to be this nation’s most beloved queen one day, and he can’t wait for it to come.

The night of your wedding, he will carry you to his chambers to consummate it. He doesn’t think of it as a duty wherein he needs to produce heirs, but something he’s been wanting to do for ages. Starting a family with you, if he didn’t already get you pregnant from all the unprotected sex he’s been having with you for months. But tradition is tradition, and there won’t be another opportunity as romantic as this. You’ll be ravished all night, taking him until your insides ache and you get sick of his taste. He has a penchant for all kinds of sex, but combined with his ox-like stamina and insatiable appetite, he could go at it forever.

Mathias would want to reincarnate by your side, finding you again and again in endless rebirths. In the dark ages where life is short and death is always near, having you just once isn’t enough. So after conquering the mortal world and making it perfect for you, he will search for answers to the question that needs answering. What comes after death, and if you’ll be there, waiting for him. It’s strange. He has dreams of having different lives, each more vivid than the last. Sometimes a dashing prince, other times, a champion boxer. He doesn’t understand what he experiences, but the thing about dreams is that they always make sense when he’s in them. So maybe, it’ll come to him one day, even if it’s thousands of years later.

#thank you to everyone who were willing to pay for early access 🥲❤️ #I’m always broke so #Go stream Gods and Monsters by Lana Del Rey 💓 #As well as Princess of China and Legendary Lovers 😭 #alfredosauce50 #update #hetalia fanfiction #hetalia #hetalia x reader #hetalia fanfic #axis powers hetalia #Denmark x reader #aph Denmark #yandere #headcanons #king Denmark #historical

[fireandiceland]

Looking for this usukus fanfic - pls help!

does anyone know a ukus (I’m pretty sure it was ukus) fanfic where Arthur is some sophisticated rich guy and Alfred needs the money so he accepts a job as his private everything (maid, butler, chef, plaything, boytoy)?? I remember reading it but I can’t find it because of course I didn’t bookmark it. I think it was on ao3 and I remember there was an nsfw scene in the bathroom? Like Alfred was ordered to run a bath and he was in a convenient position for things to happen. Also I think there was a chapter where he was serving dinner and then dessert was himself in a maid dress without underwear? I hope anyone knows the fic and maybe has the link, I’m desperate rn I scrolled through 20 pages of ao3 history but couldn’t find it 🥺

#aph england #aph america #hws england #hws america #ukus #usukus #hetalia #usuk #hetalia fanfic #hetalia fanfiction #Riva.txt

[appleandsnow]

Francis and hairties

Au contraire to popular belief, Francis was a laid-back person; preferring to spend his days cooking warm, hearty stews and meals, or, on other days, reading.

It was soothing.

He was soothing.

He calls for you from the kitchen and you're only too happy to check in on him.

"Darling, i need a hair tie"

"Got it"

It was a rare thing for Francis to forget to tie his hair back but now that he had, you stand on your toes to reach up and tie it back.

"Thank you, sweet one"

#aph x reader #hetalia fluff #hetalia drabbles #hetalia fanfic #aph francis bonnefoy #hws francis bonnefoy #hws france #francis bonnefoy fluff #hetalia imagines #hetalia x reader #hws francis x reader

[breitzbachbea]

I'm With Him And This Is Real Life, Honey

Thank you all for your enthusiastic responses! This is a Spamano One-Shot which I originally wrote for the dearest @someone-you-do-not-know, as part of my Rake Courtship AU, vaguely set in the Regency or preceding Georgian era.

If you want some general backstory for this AU or read another piece of unbearable Spamano longing and Lovino never getting what he deserves, partially because he won't allow it to himself - here is another One-Shot set in the same AU.

Summary for this One-Shot: After Antonio's and Michele's wedding has been crashed by Michele's former suitor, Lovino urges Antonio to go after his former fiancé and Lovi's cousin, if only because if Michele's father Salvatore finds him first, there will be bloodshed. They find Harry and Michele, sadly just in time to witness their elopement wedding, which will complicate things further. This is the night after that Lovino spends in an inn room with Antonio. I also made a little playlist for Spamano and Sicire in the AU, if you'd like to listen to "Would you be so kind" whilst reading Lovino's suffering.

Here's the fic - enjoy!

It was a quiet night. No wind that howled, no rain that pounded. They were the only guests at the inn – It wasn’t shabby enough that they all had to share a single room, vermin not included, and not classy enough to carry gossip to where it shouldn’t be. Not that Lovino had ever been in an inn. People of a certain class always stayed with one of their own, that was what mansions were for. Everything about this was so beneath him.

But now he wished he had simply bitten the bullet instead of drawing the line and insisting on separate rooms. He’d rather have shared a room with these two sources of his malcontent than having to listen to their bed creak through the walls. Already a pillow over his head and he could still hear the creak of wood and the slap of skin on skin.

“I’m not sharing a room with you two knobheads! I don’t care, I’ll pay for it myself!” He had protested an hour earlier or so. “I’ve had enough of you as is, for all I care I never need to see either of you for the rest of my life, but a night’ll do! I’ve been a witness against my will to your we-” He had stopped himself, suddenly aware that there was no need to bellow details about the place. No need to blow their cover

“Well, kind of you to give us the privacy,” Michele had replied and there seemed to be genuine surprise in his voice. Of course, overshadowed by how pleased he and his lover had seemed by the implications.

He didn’t even end up paying for it, but his cousin’s rotten lover. Not that Lovino had much money on him, as he had left in a hurry, but Antonio hadn’t been allowed to pay either. Simply thinking of the entire charade made him want to retch again.

Michele had taken Antonio’s hands and looked him in the eyes when he said: “You’ve already done far too much for me to ever repay it. Please, Antonio, don’t make my debt any greater. I’ve caused you enough hurt as is, let me be the bigger person now.”

Bigger person, his ass. A bigger person would put their money where their mouth is and not fuck his new husband within earshot of his old fiancé.

Christ alive, why was that stupid candle still burning. The light it produced wasn’t much, but he could see Antonio clear enough as he laid next to him in bed.

Because of course his luck was just so that there was no more than one bed in each room. At least Antonio wasn’t talking to him. He had rarely spent a moment in silence with him ever since his father had asked to spend time with him and Michele.

Antonio was mute now, as he stared at the ceiling. He had his arms crossed over his chest, stripped to his undergarments and shirt like Lovino, who could see dark curly hair peak out at the top of his shirt. In his sculpted face – Lovino still couldn’t believe his cousin had chosen to bang someone who’s face looked like an entire carriage accident over this – the brows were slightly knitted and the full lips had a hint of a pout.

He couldn’t imagine how Antonio felt, but wouldn’t want to switch places with him. A twinge of guilt came over him to have dragged him into this whole affair. What concern should it be to Antonio if the man he was betrothed to ran off with someone else and incurred the wrath of his monstrous father? He was no longer Michele’s fiancé and was not obligated to care for him anymore. And yet he did.

There was another twinge and it took Lovino a moment to realize it was jealousy. Underneath fondness for Antonio’s selfless nature, it was jealousy that it had all been wasted on Michele. His stupid cousin got betrothed to a sweet, hot, rich, important guy and then he blew it, he would have deserved it so much more than Michele. He deserved to be fawned over and cherished and spoiled rotten, he deserved to have a husband who was as kind and doting and hot as Antonio. Instead he was relegated to be the best man and agony aunt, the company that Michele couldn’t be and now he was in bed with the hottest man he’d ever seen and wasn’t even allowed to touch him. Relegated to hear his cousin screw his lover in a second-rate inn and hiding underneath the pillow as not to hear the muted throes of passion...

He could see the hairs on Antonio’s strong arms. He realized he’d been staring at Antonio the entire time and felt his face burn up.

In that moment, he could hear something that sounded like a pent-up moan from the other side, followed by some laughter.  

Antonio’s eyes squeezed shut for a moment, face scrunched up in discomfort. He sighed through his nose as he relaxed and his eyes opened again.

Great, now he could even hear them suck face in the silence. Antonio’s own expression turned from displeased to awkward – and he turned to Lovino, who felt panic well up in his stomach and fan out to his limbs.

“What the fuck are you looking at me for?!” he asked him and buried his face in the mattress, hoping it would swallow him. He could still hear the damn bed creak. “It’s not my fault!”

“S-Sorry …” Antonio apologised. Great. Simply great. He could hear Antonio clear his throat.

He tried to visualize what was going on in the other room, in the hopes that his rotten cousin and his troll of a lover would be enough to exorcise his feelings of desire. Sadly, whenever he tried, his mind too soon drifted off and kept the steamy fantasy with a tanner body underneath his own fingertips, full lips ghosting over his own body, rough but gentle hands gripping his hips, his own fingers running through wild, curly hair -

Lovino screamed into the mattress. “I’ll kill him, I’ll kill him tonight, and if I don’t I hope his dad strings him up by his own entrails, he deserves it,” he muttered into it.

“Are you alright, Lovino?” Antonio asked and Lovino considered biting himself through the entire bed and then the floor to escape the situation.

He lifted his face but didn’t face Antonio. “These two have not a bone of shame in their entire body,” he said as he stared into the dark, since Antonio’s body blocked most light of the candle in this position. “We should just have bid Michele good riddance and washed our hands of the entire thing. He’s clearly enjoying himself as is, that ungrateful bastard.”

Oh god, as if the universe itself wanted to mock Lovino, he could hear the sounds on the other side increase in frequency. He gritted his teeth.

“I mean …” Antonio sighed again. “It was the right thing to do, Lovino. It’s not always easy to do the right thing, but still you do it.” He could hear the smile in his voice. “And I guess it is their wedding night …”

Something almost slipped Lovino’s lips, but he bit it back. There was no need to tell Antonio what he had seen the night before Antonio was supposed to marry. No need to increase his suffering.

“You’re being a saint about this,” Lovino said. “If I was you, I would have walked already. To do it with you around … aren’t you mad?” He’d be mad if he was Antonio. To be betrothed to someone who doesn’t want you, have that fiancé kidnapped at your wedding day and run after them only to barge in on their elopement wedding … If he was Antonio, he’d curse everyone he ever met. Lovino included – after all, he had spurred him on to run after Michele.

“I mean …” Another sigh, this time more of an angry snort. “I would prefer to not have heard it, but … what is done is done. Pretending that it isn’t wouldn’t change much, I can fool myself. I don’t need Michele for this.”

Lovino’s brows furrowed while the rest of his features softened. I wouldn’t have fooled you, he thought. Maybe he should have run to him the night before the wedding. To hell with Michele and his secrets, Antonio would have deserved the truth.

The noises from the other side had stopped. At least that torture was over. Lovino turned on his back and clutched the pillow against his chest instead. “You are a saint,” he said. “Michele doesn’t know what he’s missing.” He didn’t dare look at Antonio. “And I’m the fucking Virgin Mary for putting up with all of it!”

Antonio laughed. “Yes you are. Thank you, Lovino. I appreciate it and I’m sure that Michele does so, too.”

He snorted. “Psht. Yeah, sure.”

“When you get married, I’ll be your best man, yes? To pay back all you gave me.”

Lovino’s heart sank into his guts. “Yeah, sure.”

Antonio put the candle out. “Good night, Lovino.”

Lovino stared into the dark. He could hear indistinct murmurs from the other room between the lovers. “Good night … Antonio.”

#beablabbers #hetalia #hws #spamano #hetalia fanfic #aph spain #aph romano #hws spain #hws romano #aph south italy #hws south italy #the pen is mightier than the sword #hetalia oc #aph sicily #hws sicily #aph ireland #hws ireland #sicire #storie nostre #tonio #lovi #harry #miche #i love Lovino so much and he deserves all the best but I also love it when his obligations to other bullshit keep him from it #he wants to do the right and cool thing he wants all the applause but doesn't dare to do what really makes him happy #but that is a sense of duty Antonio admires above all else so <3

[irithnova]

Wah my Russia and Mongolia (with Tibet and Buryatia mention) fic set in the 1930's!

This is based around the incident in which Peljidiin Genden, Prime Minister of Mongolia at the time, allegedly slapped Stalin across the face and broke his pipe. Fun times.

#hetalia #aph mongolia #hws mongolia #hetalia world stars #hetalia world series #hetalia world twinkle #hetalia mongolia #aph russia #hws russia #hetalia russia #ivan braginsky #aph tibet #hws tibet #hetalia tibet #aph buryatia #hws buryatia #hetalia buryatia #tibmongol #historical hetalia #hetalia fanfiction #hetalia fanfic

[floralcrematorium]

Migraines in Margaritaville - Prologue

Words: 2,367

Updates: Weekly or bi-weekly, TBD

Characters: America, Canada, France, England, Japan, Ukraine, and others mentioned in passing

Ships: Ameripan, CanUkr, FrUK

Alfred F. Jones is an up and coming Youtuber whose channel recently got its lucky break. Matthew Williams is a pro hockey star looking to reunite with his brother. Reminiscing for the good times, this pair of brothers embark on a trip across the continental United States (and Canada) to become the third and fourth people to have their lives changed by one man and one man only: Jimmy Buffet. However a diet of fried foods, a one-sided sibling rivalry, and the cramped confines of a 2015 Subaru forester are the key ingredients in a recipe for disaster.

This is a human AU fic that takes place in 2023 with occasional flashback memories to Alfred and Matthew’s childhood. It is also heavily inspired by Eddy Burback and Ted Nivison’s Margaritaville videos.

The prologue to my "first" fic is officially up! I haven't written for Hetalia in a number of years, so I'm excited to get back into it!

I hope you enjoy!

#hetalia #hetalia fanfiction #hetalia fanfic #hws #hetalia world stars #floralcrematorium youtube au #floralcrematorium writes #hetalia america #hws america #alfred f jones #hetalia canada #hws canada #matthew williams #hetalia japan #hws japan #kiku honda #NA brothers #FACE family #FrUK #human au

[darcymariaphoster]

Part One

When Mathias had finally gotten the guts to ask Lukas out, they had gone to a bookstore and bought the worst books they could find for each other. They'd swapped the books and made a date for two weeks later to talk about them. They met in a coffee shop and went on tangents. Mathias poked fun at how many sticky notes Lukas had stuffed into his book. They planned another outing to a bookstore, and did it again. It became a sort of ongoing thing for them, and the relationship was borne out of books and coffee.

But they never talked about what they were, and they never progressed the way that Mathias thought they would. The way he wanted them to. They were stuck in some sort of friendship, bordering on something else that neither of them would name. And maybe that's why he decided to text Lukas one night, ask if he wanted to go on a hiking trip with him over the weekend.

He had this glorious idea in his head of how the weekend would go. Maybe it was Saturday, maybe it was Sunday; it didn't matter because it was sunny. There was a spot not far from his house that he knew about. There were plenty of trails around the area -- many that he hadn't explored yet. He thought that would be where they went. Because, you know, he'd asked Lukas out so he should be the one to pick where they went. He thought. All the way up until Lukas agreed and replied, "Sure. I know the perfect place."

Of course he did.

Mathias sighs as he flops back onto his couch, resting one arm over his eyes. Yeah, he agreed to let Lukas pick the place. He hasn’t been pining for all this time to say, “Oh actually, you can’t do that to me.” He has a funny feeling that he’d let Lukas do just about anything, and he’d go along with him. 

For better or worse. Probably worse.

~~

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Mathias asks Lukas, though he doesn’t really mind the travel. He’s only been out this way a few times, and never for a hiking trip. He likes the way it looks and feels out this way. The problem is, however, that he’s noticed the trajectory of this trip. He doesn’t come this way on purpose, if he’s honest. The mountains are this direction and he generally makes a point to avoid heights. He’s not about to tell Lukas that he doesn’t really want to go on a mountain, however. 

Lukas does one of those sort of smiles, where Mathias knows that he’s smiling but if anyone else saw him they would have no idea. He loves those sort of smiles. “Not until we get there. Don’t you trust me?”

Mathias stares at him for a moment longer, just admiring, before he turns his attention back to the scenery flashing by. There’s a lot of green, he has to say that about the area. He likes the water alright, and he enjoys the beaches. But there's no way in hell that he would go near the cliffs. The heights have always been too much for him. “Yeah, of course I trust you,” he replies easily. Such a weird concept, in all honesty. It’s only been a few months, after all. He is pretty good at falling head first, though...

The drive is a rather quiet one, though Lukas relinquishes the radio to him after a bit. They chat here and there about whatever comes to mind, and he thinks again that he’d do pretty much anything for Lukas. He can’t help but notice that the ascent up the mountain doesn’t seem all that bad -- he hardly notices it, actually. They haven't taken any weird curves that show him how high up they are yet, and that's probably for the best.

“Are you really telling me that you have never been hiking this way?” Lukas finally interrupts the silence as they pull into the parking cove. 

Mathias laughs as he gets out of the car. Actually being on the mountain isn’t so bad, at least not while he’s far away from edges and can only see what’s in front of him. “I am really telling you that.” 

“What kind of hiker are you?” Lukas grabs his backpack from the back, pulling Mathias’s out as well so he can shove it at him. “I hope you’re not one of those who does backpacking on flat trails and calls it a hike.” Mathias puts his backpack on slowly, trying to decide what he wants to say. But Lukas doesn’t let him answer, apparently deciding that his statement was more rhetorical than anything else. “Let’s go then.” 

Mathias braces himself as he follows Lukas towards a trail. “Are we going very high up?”

Lukas shrugs nonchalantly. “Probably.” He glances over his shoulder at him, expression rather coy. "Trust me. I come up here all the time." 

“I do,” Mathias laughs, taking a few broad steps to catch up to him. “Are you testing me? Is that why you keep saying that?” Lukas seems to have no intention of answering that, either, and promptly changes the subject to the books they’ve been reading instead. He doesn't mind; the idle chit-chat is nice with Lukas, and it keeps his brain occupied so he can't overthink the heights situation. They weave about, and Mathias never notices when they stray from the normal trails.

However, after some time, he notices that he is definitely feeling the difference between his normal hikes and this…ascent. He isn’t about to quit, or say that he can’t manage, at least not yet. But Lukas proposes that they stop for a bit, and he jumps on the chance. “Tired already?” he teases, mostly in a vain attempt to distract him.

Lukas hesitates slightly, seeming to zone a bit as he stares through the trees for a moment. “Absolutely not. I could hear you wheezing behind me.” He throws Mathias a rather playful smirk before he takes his backpack off and takes a swig of water.

Mathias looks about himself, a bit in awe over the canopy of trees above them and the birds and insect sounds around them. He never gets tired of listening to nature. "How long have we been out here?" He glances at his watch as he asks.

"Hard to tell," Lukas mumbles distractedly and Mathias pays him a bit more attention. "I don't normally pay attention to the time when I hike. Do you?" Mathias shakes his head, studying Lukas a moment longer. "What?"

"Nothing, you're just being extra serious." Mathias raises his hands in mock surrender before finding a boulder to sit on. "You good?"

#hetalia #dennor #my shit #my fanfic #hetalia fanfic #aph denmark #hws denmark #aph norway #hws norway #please reblog and vote! #sorry this bit is so short #hopefully you're invested enough to vote on the direction...? #this is actually a bit harder than I thought it would be lol

[oldfritz]

gilbert and fritz have a long overdue conversation

#hws prussia #hws old fritz #welcome to the soap opera old man. you would called my shit derivative and insulted my language. and i would thank you #my writing #hetalia #hetalia fanfic #prufritz

[mpregfrance]

im inflicting maximum pain on françois for no reason. other than that its fun

#my writing #aph france #hws france #hetalia fanfic

[mikkelves]

Pochi kun

"Konnichiwa England" Japan says as he approached the Brit. England looks behind him. "Oh, hello Japan." Japan raised Pochi a bit higher, showing England. The Brit tilts his head in confusion, unsure of what the Japanese man was trying to do. Japan senses his confusion, and decides to speak up. "Pochi-Kun" As he moved Pochi closer to Englands face "Yep, Pochi kun" England said. Japan set down pochi, and grabbed Englands face, which caught England off-guard. He realised what Japan was trying to do, and he kissed the Japanese man passionately. The two stand there, kissing for a few seconds, until Japan pulls away. The two men blushing, England smiled. "I love you Japan."

#asakiku #hetalia #hetalia fanfic #Rushed #It was rlly rushed #Oopsies #And short #Anyways #Japan #Aph japan #England #Aph england

[alfredosauce50]

Yandere Denmark Headcanons

Ruthless, ambitious, and with a mind for expansion, it’s no wonder he always finds himself in positions of political power. But like all men, he has desires of the flesh, the longing for real connection. He comes onto you as an ordinary man, and you love him as one.

What you don’t know, is that he’s the king. When you learn the truth, you pull away fearing for your own safety. But he holds onto you all the tighter. With the nation obeying his every whim and every pair of eyes and ears working for him, he’s impossible to escape.

Wordcount: 3, 692 Rating: R18+ for sex and violence

The headcanons are on my Patreon for early access ❤️

#IT’S FINALLY DONE #Holy fuck I kept working on this and now this goes head to head with Alfred’s yandere hcs #setting the tone for the next story I’m writing #about time I returned to it 👁️ #alfredosauce50 #update #hetalia fanfiction #hetalia #hetalia x reader #hetalia fanfic #axis powers hetalia #aph denmark #king Denmark #yandere #Denmark x reader #patreon

[neufhistoires]

Loveless Marriage (FrUK) Chapter 10

Loveless Marriage

Chapter 10

Word count: 4,023

**There are some suggestive themes in this chapter**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Wait! I just need to take one more photo of these ones,” Francis called out as he leaned over pink flowers at the botanical garden, trying to get the best angle he could. Arthur was slowly, but surely, walking away from him.

Francis had insisted on buying a disposable camera at one of the souvenir shops (even though he obviously already had a camera on his phone) because it would be aesthetically pleasing to develop the photos and put them in a physical album. Arthur argued that it was a waste of money because he already had a camera on his phone, but that didn’t stop the Frenchman. His mind was set.

“You’re so slow– I’m heading to the next area without you if you don’t hurry up!” Arthur called out, although it really wasn’t much of a threat anymore, seeing as he essentially already did go to the next section of flowers without the Frenchman. Francis was going to ignore the other man until he glanced over and realized how far away he was, irritation becoming apparent on his face.

“Hey! I told you to wait!” Francis yelled back, his eyes narrow as he took one more photo and then ran over to the Englishman.

“I didn’t realize you were my parent,” Arthur muttered sarcastically, his gaze averted away from Francis as he snapped some photos of the next area of flowers with his phone camera.

“I’m not– I’m your husband,” Francis teased, a smirk forming on his face as he watched Arthur tense up and glance around to see if anyone heard him say that.

“That’s even worse! Stop it!” Arthur yelled in a hushed tone.

“You’ll appreciate the effort I put into these photos when you see them developed later. Hey, I might even let you make your own copies of them,” Francis said, completely changing the topic as though he hadn’t even heard the other man.

“No, thanks,” Arthur scoffed. “I’ll be posting my photos and sending them to my friends today– maybe even right now– because I don’t have to go somewhere and wait for them to be developed.” “You know, you’re so much more tolerable when you’re drunk…or sick,” Francis muttered, trying to take his next set of photos faster.

“Well, if I get poisoned, I’ll know who did it,” Arthur replied, but he let out a small laugh, which made Francis smile, too.

The two of them continued to make their way through the garden, making sure to take photos of, and with, the Coco de Mer plants, which Francis couldn’t help but make dirty remarks about. Then, they proceeded on to the Thai Garden and the Chinese Garden, where they listened to a park employee explain the history behind them.

After the interesting, but very detailed, history lesson, the two of them were hungry so they stopped at a restaurant called Wildflour Cafe, which was located in the botanical garden. Arthur ordered tea and Francis ordered coffee, both of which tasted exceptional. For the food, they split a savory avocado bun, which was essentially thick, toasted bread with avocado spread and tomatoes topped with basil. They split it because they also each ordered a piece of homemade ginger and lime drizzle cake, which was also, of course, delicious.

Just when Arthur thought that they were done and went to ask for the check, Francis went ahead and ordered wine… even though it was lunch time.

“What are you doing– drinking at this time?” Arthur leaned in and whispered, which caused the waitress to stop and wait to see if the Frenchman would still want it.

“We’re on vacation– normal etiquette doesn’t apply! I want to try their wine,” Francis replied defensively, making Arthur let out a heavy sigh.

“Whatever– I guess I’ll try some, too, then,” Arthur said, making the waitress smile and nod before she walked away to go get their drinks.

“That’s the spirit,” Francis mused.

“Yeah, yeah. Admittedly, I find things more tolerable when I’m drunk, too,” Arthur said with a laugh.

“Like I said, we’re on vacation. Would we really be enjoying it if we didn’t get at least a little bit wasted?” Francis replied, sounding like he was a college frat boy who couldn’t contain himself. Well, at least the Frenchman knew how to have a good time– Arthur would give him that.

The waitress brought them their wine and then Francis held the glass up expectantly, waiting for Arthur to lift his glass up, too.

“To us,” Francis said, locking eyes with Arthur as he gently clinked their glasses together.

Arthur wanted to scold Francis, to tell him to stop joking around about their supposed marriage, but… he looked so serious when he said it. It sort of freaked the Englishman out, so he took it as a cue to drink faster. At least he wouldn’t have to think about it too much if he got drunk. Maybe he wouldn’t even remember something as small as the way Francis looked at him then.

“My family’s wine is better, of course, but it’s not bad,” Francis said, swirling the wine around in his glass.

“I honestly couldn’t tell you the difference,” Arthur replied, making Francis scoff. He wasn’t sure if the Englishman was just trying to push his buttons or if he really meant it.

After they finished up at the restaurant, they returned to the botanical gardens to do one last walkthrough to see if there was anything they had missed the first time. It seemed a lot more laid back and enjoyable when they were a little bit tipsy. Francis wasn’t being uptight about getting the right camera angles anymore, and Arthur stopped complaining about the fact that the Frenchman wasted his money on a useless camera. 

This time they were taking completely random photos together. Some of them were rather silly. Most of them were photos of times when they tried to make serious faces or pose elegantly, but they just ended up bursting out into uncontrollable laughter instead.

The two of them stumbled around the gardens for who knows how long until they started to walk back in the direction of their hotel. They continued taking photos and walking into souvenir shops, buying things that they definitely didn’t need, like big sun hats and flashy glasses. At one point, Arthur even started doing impressions of American presidents, which was when they realized that maybe they were a little too drunk. 

Although… if they could notice something like that, then they probably weren’t too drunk at all. That was Francis’s reasoning at least when they finally returned to the hotel and went straight for the bar in the lobby. That was starting to become a regular thing for the Frenchman– getting wasted in hotel bars.

Still wearing their huge sun hats and sunglasses, they drank for hours until they genuinely started to feel sick. Arthur threw up all over the chair beside him, which Francis made sure to get a picture of on his disposable camera. He was grateful when Arthur didn’t treat him the same way though when he started to puke next. The mess they made wasn’t enough to embarrass them because they were too drunk to really comprehend what embarrassment even was, but it was enough to make the bartender kick them out.

They should have been embarrassed. At least a little bit, right? But instead they were laughing about it in the lobby.

The truly embarrassing part was probably when they both decided that they wanted to take the stairs, but couldn’t make it up more than three steps without falling over. It went on like that for a few minutes before one of the hotel employees politely suggested that they use the elevator.

On the elevator, they continued to mess around and laugh at things that they usually wouldn’t find funny. Francis pressed all of the buttons on the elevator, making it hit every floor on the way up to theirs. Arthur closed the door immediately each time they reached a floor, making it difficult for others to even get on the elevator while they were on it. It was surprising that they could even remember which floor their rooms were on, but somehow they made it to the correct floor…

Upon stopping outside their doors, Arthur leaned against the wall in the hallway, watching as Francis pathetically tried to get the key in the door to his room. He started to laugh at the Frenchman, which caused Francis to turn around with a frustrated expression on his face.

“Why don’t you try to open your own door instead of watching me?” Francis slurred, his whole world spinning when he turned around to lock eyes with the equally drunk Englishman across from him.

“It looks too difficult– I’ll just sleep here,” Arthur said in a matter of fact tone as he slowly slid down the wall until he was sitting on the ground.

Francis huffed and turned around to continue messing with the key. Then he realized he had been trying to use the wrong key and laughed at himself for a second before he put the correct key in and unlocked the door.

The Frenchman turned around again and saw the Englishman almost passed out in the hallway. Francis was drunk, too, but he could at least still recognize that sleeping in a hallway was wrong.

“Come on,” Francis mumbled, trying to lean over and grab Arthur’s arm without falling over himself.

“Where are we going?” Arthur slurred, his eyes still somehow closed as Francis tugged him into a standing position.

“You can sleep with me,” Francis replied, trying his best to focus for just a few more seconds so he could get the other man in the room and pass out in peace. Arthur wasn’t making it easy for the Frenchman though, as he kept fully collapsing into him. He almost knocked him over each time.

Eventually, the two of them got in the room, slamming the door on accident. At least the slam was loud enough for them to hear it and know that it shut for sure.

It would’ve been pitch black in Francis’s room, but he had accidentally forgotten to turn off the small lamp in the kitchenette, so the room was dimly lit. Unlike Arthur, Francis hadn’t made a mess by tossing clothes everywhere, so his room was well organized… before the two of them threw their sun hats, sunglasses, and all the other random souvenirs they had picked up along the way on the floor.

For a few minutes, the two of them didn’t really say anything. They both felt like everything was moving and every sound echoed, so Francis sat on the edge of the bed with a hand on his head and Arthur fumbled around in one of the cabinets trying to find a cup so he could get some water before bed.

It went on like that for a while, the sound of Arthur moving dishes around filling the room. Eventually, he found a cup, messily poured it with water, which got all over his hands, and then made his way over to the bed. Unfortunately though, as Arthur was walking over to the bed, just as he had almost made it there, he tripped on the unorganized pile of souvenirs and fell on top of Francis, spilling the glass of water on the other man.

“Merde! Arthur, what is that?” Francis slurred, not realizing that it was only water because he was too drunk and confused to have been paying attention to what Arthur was doing before he came over to the bed.

“Ouch, sorry,” Arthur mumbled, accidentally letting go of the glass completely as he tried to push himself off of the other man. Fortunately, when the glass hit the floor, it didn’t shatter.

As Arthur tried to use his hands to push him off of Francis, he accidentally placed his hand somewhere he shouldn’t have, causing the Frenchman to let out a groan. Arthur didn’t really realize what he had done, and then he made the situation even worse by reaching for a nearby folded blanket and attempting to sop up the water he had poured on the other man. Most of the water had spilled on his pants…

“Arthur, wait, I can–” Francis attempted to stop the other man, his cheeks flushed as the Englishman repeatedly wiped his lower half with the blanket. Right as Francis reached his arm out and grabbed Arthur’s wrist to stop him, the Englishman made contact with a certain area again and made him moan, this time much louder than before.

Although Arthur really couldn’t think too clearly, his body seemed to be thinking for him because his shorts suddenly started to feel tight and restricting after he heard the noise the other man made.

The two of them sat there frozen for a second before Francis said that he was going to take his shorts off because they were wet, but Arthur didn’t get off of him like he thought he would. No, instead he helped him take off his shorts, to which the Frenchman helped the Englishman take off his shorts, too.

It all happened so fast, as though in a matter of seconds the two of them had succumbed to some sort of primal urges and… became one.

They both weren’t thinking, their brains too distorted by alcohol to really understand what they were doing. They were only trying to get rid of the uncomfortable throbbing down below, so they didn’t even consider using lube or anything else that could have made the process a little less… regrettable the next day.

The sun coming up in the morning wasn’t enough to wake either of them up. They were both utterly exhausted from, well, a series of unfortunate events that led them to the situation they were currently in. It was only when an unassuming hotel employee entered the room to clean it that they realized how late it was.

The sound of the door opening was enough to frighten and startle them both. They glanced over at the woman who was staring at them wide eyed as if she had seen something she shouldn’t have.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize anyone was in here! I’ll excuse myself,” The woman said, covering her eyes as she fled the room, clearly embarrassed.

Francis wasn’t too concerned after he saw that it was just a housekeeper who had embarrassed herself  by accidentally entering the room. He was genuinely oblivious to the whole situation due to the pounding headache from his hangover. So he carelessly drifted back asleep, figuring it was just because he had a tendency to sleep naked.

Arthur was going to fall back asleep since his head was killing him, too. He couldn’t quite remember the previous night, well, at all… but he just assumed that he had a hangover. It wasn’t like it was that bizarre of an occurrence for him. However, at first he did think it was strange that someone… Francis… was lying on top of him, but upon further thought that wasn’t really that strange either.

Something seemed off though, so Arthur shifted some as he tried to consider what it might be, his head hurting even worse the more he thought. What was truly bizarre was the way his ass stung when he shifted only slightly. No, actually, his ass… was terribly sore. He furrowed his eyebrows and shifted again, glancing down to get a better look at the man who was lying on top of him. The Frenchman had promised to wear pajamas if he was going to sleep in the same bed as him before, and yet… he was naked! Putting all of the pieces together, Arthur’s cheeks flushed and he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Instead of waking him up gently, Arthur woke the Frenchman up with a rough shove. Usually the two of them could get away with shoving one another rather playfully and it meant nothing, but this time it actually physically hurt and startled the other man.

“Ow! What’s your problem?!” Francis yelled, falling over on the other side of the bed and grabbing his shoulder where he had been shoved. It was honestly such a hard shove that he would probably be bruised later.

Francis had been startled by being woken up so aggressively, but once his initial shock wore off, he realized what sort of situation they were in. Normally, he would have blushed and maybe even said something smug about the whole thing, but instead he felt sick to his stomach. It was just like the wedding, wasn’t it? Something that was meant to be romantic and meaningful had been screwed up, and even worse, he could tell Arthur wouldn’t ever forgive him for it. He was going to truly hate him.

“What’s my problem?! You’re the pervert who put me in this situation! I should’ve known you would do something like this!” Arthur yelled, getting off the bed and pulling his underwear on. His ass hurt so bad, but he was mad enough that he could look past that for the time being.

“Arthur– you have the wrong idea! My head is killing me! I was drunk last night, too! I can’t remember anything!” Francis yelled back defensively as he stood up and walked over to Arthur who was getting dressed so quickly it looked like he was running away from a murderer or a monster. Maybe that was what Francis was to him now– a monster.

“Get away from me, you liar!” Arthur yelled, almost tripping himself on his pants that were halfway on so he could put more space between himself and the Frenchman. “You’re always like this– sleeping around with anyone you can get your hands on! Didn’t it ever occur to you that other people have feelings, too, and not everyone is comfortable with how close you get to them?” Arthur continued, no longer yelling as he became more level headed, his words clearly striking to kill.

And it was working, too. Francis was too shocked to speak. That was really what Arthur thought of him? Well, it wasn’t as though he hadn’t alluded to it before during their fight when they kissed, when Arthur said that Francis would take anyone. He truly thought that Francis was a pig, a nuisance that was in his way.

“I knew something was up when you said that you wanted to sleep in bed with me because you were too cold. You’re disgusting,” Arthur continued to insult the Frenchman, pointing his finger at him accusatively.

At the beginning of their argument, Francis had wanted to defend himself, to explain that he didn’t realize what happened until morning either, that he never intended on hurting the other man, but… he felt so low he felt numb. He could only take so many insults.

When Arthur didn’t get a response, he simply said, “Stay away from me,” and left the Frenchman’s room.

That was the last time the two of them spoke before they got on the plane to return to England. Francis was still hurt by Arthur’s insults, but he had wrongfully assumed that the Englishman would be willing to make small talk with him on the plane.

“I went to develop the photos yesterday. I think the–” Francis was cut off when Arthur abruptly stood up from his seat and walked over to the nearest flight attendant, asking if there was anyone in economy who would want to switch seats with him. He explained that he didn’t care if the seats were more cramped, he just absolutely didn’t want to sit in his original seat.

With that, Arthur disappeared to the back of the plane, not even glancing at the Frenchman as he walked past him.

The two of them had fought several times. It was sort of their thing. But, it was usually a more playful, competitive kind of fight. Neither one of them had ever given the other the silent treatment for any longer than a few minutes. This time, they hadn’t spoken in days.

It was a painfully long thirteen hour flight. The whole time Francis was plagued with the thought that things would never be normal again, or well, at least as normal as they were. Arthur, on the other hand, spent the whole flight thinking about how Francis had gotten him drunk on purpose and taken advantage of him. He was contemplating every oddly intimate gesture and glance that the Frenchman made towards him and how he must’ve had a perverted ulterior motive. They were both miserable.

When the plane landed, Francis got off first because he was closer to the front. He waited for Arthur, hoping he would at least acknowledge that they arrived at the airport in the same car together, but when he greeted him, he was still walked past and ignored.

“Arthur, you’re acting like such a child,” Francis lashed out when the other man walked past him without a single word or glance.

“Maybe if you weren’t a disgusting manipulative liar, I would acknowledge you,” Arthur replied, stopping, but not turning around to look at the other man. He really knew how to hurt the other man with his words.

“You’re just as much at fault for what happened as I am!” Francis said, raising his voice as he stomped over to walk in front of the other man and force him to look him in the eyes. “We were both drunk! I can’t remember anything other than the next morning either!”

For the first time in days, Arthur reluctantly made eye contact with Francis. His gaze alone was enough to hurt Francis. It was so cold.

“You know what? Let’s say that’s true– that you really were drunk and you can’t remember anything. There’s still something worth noting– you aren’t disgusted by what happened, and I am,” Arthur said coldly, pushing past the Frenchman again.

Francis froze because what Arthur said was absolutely true and it devastated him. He understood why Arthur was upset– the whole thing was an accident, after all, but… the fact that he was disgusted with him and kept telling him over and over again really wounded him.

Arthur figured Francis was still following behind him, that he would get in the car and they wouldn’t speak on the way home, but when he opened the car door and nonchalantly glanced behind himself to see what the Frenchman was doing, he was surprised to see that he hadn’t followed him. He felt a bit guilty and hesitated for a second, but then he reminded himself that Francis was an adult with a job, so he was probably paying for a taxi, so he left. 

The Englishman assumed that the Frenchman’s reluctance to respond or follow him after what he said was an answer in itself– Francis really must not have minded that they had sex.

Francis was indeed taking a taxi back to their house, but it still hurt to know that Arthur wasn’t even concerned enough to send a text asking how he planned on getting home. He honestly didn’t make too much money working part time at a flower shop, so he would be spending most of his savings on the expensive airport taxi, but he was dejected enough that he supposed it was worth it.

Francis got home later than Arthur because he had to wait for the taxi. He noticed that no one was home, but that Arthur had definitely already been there because his luggage was in the kitchen. He figured the Englishman must’ve left immediately in hopes that they wouldn’t run into each other.

The Frenchman went upstairs with his own suitcases and slowly unpacked his things, hoping that he would hear the familiar sound of keys jingling as they unlocked the front door downstairs, but hours passed and he hadn’t heard anything. When he came across the photos he developed and the silly sun hats and sunglasses, he broke down.

#hetalia #aph france #hws france #fruk #aph england #hws england #aph fruk #hws fruk #hetalia fruk #francis bonnefoy #arthur kirkland #hetalia france #hetalia england #hetalia fanfiction #hetalia fanfic #ao3fic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer

[appleandsnow]

Katyusha and Doodles

She remembers bringing the shopping list and yet she can't find it....

Katyusha was standing by an aisle at the supermarket, going through her pockets for the grocery list with increasing panic.

You'd made it together and stuck it to the refrigerator so it would be within sight.

She knew she'd brought it with her and would hate to  make another trip home and back...

In desperation, she checks her other pocket - the one she reserved for gum wrappers and other junk - and finds it there.

She also finds your doodling on the back of the list and at the risk of looking like an idiot, she grins wide.

You were so! cute!

#aph hetalia #hws hetalia #hetalia #hetalia imagines #hetalia fanfic #aph x reader #hetalia x reader #aph ukraine #hws ukraine #katyusha romanova

[breitzbachbea]

Hi! I wrote a Fanfic for my AU (more info here) and had so much fun with it that I wanted to share it with you all! If you don't mind OCs, loooove Arthur suffering from the consequences of other people's actions and want to see the greedy Dutchman be a conniving cunt (sexual intent) - I wrote this fic just for you! <3

To summarize this fic in short:

If you'd like to see and share the full comic by the talented @ironicorange, click here. (It's also featured as epilogue in the fic itself)

To summarize the fic in long, here's the entire ao3 thing, continued under the cut:

A Dutch Conspiracy (5541 words) by BreitzbachBea Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: Like Father Like Son (Online Novel), Hetalia: Axis Powers Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Robert Bailey/Tahir Rashid, Tahir Rashid/Tim van der Zee, Robert Bailey/Sri Kadek Kikkert, Original Male Character/Original Male Character, Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s), Canon Male Character/Original Male Character Characters: Arielle Halévy, Tahir Rashid, Robert Bailey, Arthur Kirkland, Tim van der Zee, Netherlands (Hetalia), Sri Kadek Kikkert, Mega Bas Kikkert, Original Male Character(s), Original Male Character(s) of Color, Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character(s) of Color, Original Non-Binary Character Additional Tags: Major Original Character(s), Alternate Universe - Human, Cheating, Arguing, Relationship Issues, Jealousy, Reconciliation, Comedy, Third Wheels, POV Multiple, Song: Alejandro (Lady Gaga), Smoking, Drinking & Talking, Making Up, Toxic Masculinity, Making Out, Foreplay, Vaginal Fingering, Implied/Referenced Sex, Sexual Tension, Fanart Summary:

Arthur and his two right hand men pride themselves on their professionalism and ruthless efficiency. Their unwillingness to compromise their greatest asset - until it turns into friendly fire. A snide remark about Robert's smoking habits during a business trip to France quickly roars into a full blown relationship crisis between him and Tahir. By the time Arthur arrives in Amsterdam, his only hope is that at least their Dutch business partners are going to be professional.

The Dutch do not disappoint and very professionally take the quarelling lovers off Arthur's hand for a night. Nothing personal about it.

[Set in my Human/Organized Crime AU 'Like Father Like Son']

#hetalia #hetalia fanfic #hetalia au #hws #aph #aph england #hws england #aph netherlands #hws netherlands #beablabbers #storie nostre #arthur #tim #sk #tahir #robert #mega #arielle #the pen is mightier than the sword #railey #kikley #still no good shipname in sight for your lawyer and ceo. sigh.

[wxxderbxrr]

lines. — an alfred + kiku fanfic

ꕥ rating: general audience, gen (no ship).

ꕥ desc: if you look deeper, art is just a bunch of lines. it’s just that artists knew how to draw them correctly, that’s all. so if you can draw a single line and learn how to arrange them correctly, you can be an artist too.

ꕥ tldr; typical football player alfred stays with art teacher kiku because of his horrible grades. alfred hates mr. honda, but will he hate him forever?

ꕥ tags: wholesome, self-indulgent, strictly teacher-student, fluff and stuff, art, school, w academy, mentioned fruk, detailed, advice, cringe, also gen. read at your own risk.

ꕥ wordcount: 2935 words

ꕥ a/n: this is inspired by a poem i made and practice for detailed writing. basically show not tell. apologies if i made any errors. (also, i know this isn’t ao3 but i want to apologize for my mistagging, legit did clickbait but i learnt it’s not helpful. i’m very sorry.) i hope you enjoy this fic.

ao3 ver.

The golden light of the sun shines through the windows of the classroom as the bell rang, a flurry of young students bursting out of their classrooms at lightning speed. Class was over as the clock struck two thirty in the afternoon, leaving the art teacher, Kiku Honda, be.

He can hear their chatter polluting the hallways as they escape from what they call “hell”, gazing at the open door to the stampede in thought. He can hear how students’ days have been as they walk with their friends to their dorms, updates on after-school activities like clubs and sports practice, and that juicy gossip he couldn’t escape from, the rumors of a certain French teacher eloping with a Brit coworker growing about.

The tea he heard from Arthur and Francis was something he’ll talk to his grandchildren about in another 50 years.

It was no wonder both didn’t appear to work today.

From a classroom that is splotched with paints and brushes with works on canvases pinned to the walls, Kiku waited silently until the outside noise subsided. His eyes never blinked from what he surveyed as he processed the last seconds before his classroom filled out, the quiet emptiness of the building replacing the noises of humans following not long after. When his surroundings were all still and quiet, he stood up, gesturing to the remaining student to come over to his desk. The student rolled his eyes and shuffled over, walking slowly to the front of the classroom.

“Can you please make it quick? I have a football practice that’ll happen in about a minute.” Alfred glares as he makes his way toward the teacher’s desk. Kiku, used to his rudeness against the teachers, sighed heavily as he checked the athlete’s grades.

“Alfred, unfortunately, I can’t let you go to practice today. Your coach and I discussed it ourselves.”

His eyes widened from the news as he dropped his backpack, rushing behind the teacher as he hurriedly checked his grades. “What?”

“Your grades are the lowest I’ve ever seen this past semester. Although you’ve barely passed the standard, your average in Art is lower than any subject.” Kiku stated, tracing the numbers of his missing work down the list with his cursor. “You will stay after class to make up for the missing work you’re unable to pass. I will not curve up your grades this time.”

To face the boy, Kiku looked up as he was met with widened blue eyes with his mouth agape. It was only for a split second before he regained his composure, straightening his lips as he slowly walked back to his desk, wanting a minute to himself on what just happened.

Meanwhile, the art teacher was also processing what just happened, as Alfred, the loudest in the class with his happy-go-lucky smile he shows to his peers, suddenly cares about grades as he gestured over to his seat, looking down, his face unsmiling, a tinge of sadness creeping all over him.

The teacher watched him sink into his seat dejectedly.

Kiku lets out a breath as he breaks his gaze on the poor student, switching to the narrow cabinets at the end of the classroom.

“Time to get your work out, Alfred. You have so much to do today.”

A few minutes later after the student brought out his materials, Kiku continued to type away on the computer as the occasional clicking of the numpad entered his ears, grading other students from other periods he hasn’t graded yet. Both men were doing their own thing, coliving in this classroom as the sun continued to set from the horizon.

From the submissions of the recent project his classes were currently working on (and supposed to be finished by the end of the week), he sighed heavily when most of the people in a period didn’t submit their work on Schoology. From all the goofing around that's ten times way worse than what Alfred does daily, the teacher might as well give them a big fat zero at this point.

'Watch them turn in their submissions late as soon as I announce how low their grade is.' Kiku grumbles in his thoughts, pushing himself away from the computer. 'I'm on the line of failing everyone at this point, they barely listen to my instructions anyway.'

Taking a break from his responsibilities, he decided to get up from his seat to check on Alfred. He quietly walked over to the student, spectating as he carefully colored in his lines, bringing his artwork to life.

This illustration came from last month's lesson about oil pastels, where Kiku explained all sorts of techniques they can use to make tremendous art. Since an illustration related to the topic is a major grade, Alfred put it on top of every missing work he has in this class. Most of his missing work is a minor grade anyway, although that doesn't mean the grade doesn't matter.

“This is hard! I give up!” the American threw the yellow-green oil pastel on the desk in a fit as he crossed his arms. “This is too difficult. I can never make art under your expectations!”

“Expectations?” the teacher queried, breaking his train of thought as he peeked at his artwork behind his seat. “Who said that art is exceptional under my expectations?”

“The people around me!” Alfred exclaimed, his hands gesturing to an invisible crowd. “Everyone draws as good as you! How they sketch, how they color, outline, everything! They’re always making you satisfied!”

"Have they said that to you literally, though?"

"What?"

"Like they told you, directly, in a literal sense."

Alfred's eyes traced down the floor of the classroom, which was when Mr. Honda stepped forward next to the little boy's seat. He glanced at the dirty-blonde boy, before switching his gaze to the piece bathing in the sunset.

The illustration was a colorful butterfly rich with all sorts of darker shades of colors. Although some places are a little scuffed and unfinished, Kiku thinks it's an amazing masterpiece coming from someone who claims they couldn't draw.

Alfred could've done something simple like a regular sphere or any other shape, but no, he chose to draw a butterfly, filled with colors of the rainbow, which signifies how much effort he puts into art.

"Alfred… that illustration, it's so…"

"Not shocking compared to the art submitted on Scholastic." Alfred states, and he's right, confirmed Mr. Honda as he saw better in his grade. "I can never be better than you. I can never be better than anyone here. I'm supposed to be number one, on everything, including this class!"

"Don't beat yourself over it just because you're a regular human." Mr. Honda shares, hesitantly putting a hand on the athlete's shoulder. "Everyone has flaws from time to time, and though they're negative, it shows that you're, well, just like us." the teacher rubbed his shoulder before picking up his student's work, quietly demanding a closer look.

"But I love to be number one. I want to excel in what I do, like my work, and my role in the football team! I want to be the best of the best!"

"It's not bad to aim for the top, Alfred," Kiku paused, tracing his finger lightly against the applied color, "but when you recognize your flaws and stop being a chronic perfectionist, you will truly become number one."

Seeing no point in arguing with his art teacher he used to dislike, he turned his attention to what was in front of him as his teacher gazed at his work, happily humming from here to there as Alfred's ears had no option but to hear. His irises scan his teacher's expression, and he found how satisfied Mr. Honda himself was with the artwork. That joke of an artwork. Then again, all of his works of art were terrible in Alfred's judgment.

"...I'm not a perfectionist, y'know?" the American corrects, looking away before Kiku could notice his side eye. "Like look at my grades, they're barely in the minimum to pass."

"I know," Kiku agrees, plopping the work down in front of his student, "but you did so well in this work, it felt like you were trying to do enough to get my attention."

"I'm not an attention-seeker either!"

"My apologies, Alfred, but I couldn't brush off how you think everyone draws as good as me…"

The American, in response, slumped in his chair for what seemed to be the umpteenth time, regretting what he previously said beforehand.

"...however, despite that praise, everything is just a bunch of lines."

Alfred found himself gaping up at the teacher, puzzled by his last sentiment.

"What?"

"Art… is just a bunch of lines," Kiku repeats, looking out to the slow sunset, "a free form of expression. The arrangement of the lines does not matter. And with that line, it can take the form of a shape, an object, to draw something complex, or surprisingly simple…

"It can take the form of writing, the form of drawing, the form of poetry, or music. Sculptures, print, absolutely anything. The plushies we have, the clothes we wear, our style of hair is art."

Alfred blinks at his teacher's view of his topic, his mouth not moving to respond as he had nothing to say.

"And all of that connects to… a bunch of lines." the art teacher concludes, sighing before turning to his confuzzled student, tilting his head to the side. "So feel free. Do what you want, as art itself is unlimited. And because art itself is unlimited, your freedom of expression is unlimited. That, itself, is art."

With the window's curtains fluttering from the wind that blows, the two occupants of the room fell into utter silence. Yellow rays from the golden hour transitioned to low orange shades, purples, and an array reflecting against the clouds.

Automatically, the lights flicked within the room, its artificial light disrupting the natural view. Kiku shut his eyes closed as his lips turned to a slight frown, the peace of nature gone, overtaken by the urban nature of technology. Sometimes, Kiku wished he'd be in his dorm, catching the sunset again as he relaxed calmly in his bed…

"Does that mean… I can go home now?"

Kiku snapped to Alfred with a glare, "No, Alfred. Get back to work."

"Noooooooo~!"

The teacher chuckled at the student's whines, finding it pathetic especially when he was near to finish.

Just not long after an estimated 30 minutes, Alfred finally completed his art project. As such, the teacher ran over, looking forward to the student's finished product.

The student's work, this time, is barricaded by a thick, black border that he makes all his students cut out. Alfred did a good job cutting the black illustration paper, in which the thickness of the border is two inches long. The butterfly, which is the main attraction, is now touched up with all sorts of colors ranging from light to dark. No negative space is left as Alfred colored all the missing spaces, and its glossy highlights from the art gave a polishing finishing touch, further astounding the Japanese teacher into half yelling.

"This is amazing, Alfred-san! I didn't know you had such a talent…"

"Um, I can't speak Japanese, Mr. Honda…" Alfred deadpans, puzzled why he said everything in Japanese.

"Oh, my apologies." Kiku bows in forgiveness before handing over the student his artwork. "This is amazing, Alfred. I like it. I like it a lot."

"Oh, thanks…" Alfred mutters, his face penetrating a lightish pink as he hides his lower face with his work. Kiku was intrigued, as he had never seen this side of Alfred before…

"I didn't know you had a talent for art, or rather, I've never seen you put this much effort in my class before…" the teacher continued, looking away as he couldn't deal with eye contact. "You must've had a lot of potential, perhaps there are a lot of things you can immediately get in one go…"

"Well, it's sort of true. I do have some sort of potential…" Reluctantly, the student agrees, dropping his work down to his legs, "But that's because I'm a naturally fast learner, to some extent, and can be better than everyone once I get the gist of it…"

"An amazing talent you have, Alfred." Kiku comments, gazing at the American's bashful facial expression.

"Y-yeah, but…" Determinedly, he clicked to Mr. Honda's brown hues as he clenched his hand against his art lightly, "I got tired of their expectations of me being better than them! So, I decided to slack off a bit, eat some burgers, skip, whatever! Sure, I got low grades and got yelled at by the coach and teachers a lot, but it's better than to be seen as an overachiever, right?" He stared at the teacher for approval, wanting to know whether what he was doing was understandable.

The art teacher nods. "I see, so that's why…"

Alfred nods back in approval, though he feels like the teacher has something else to say…

"...but while it's an act of rebellion towards everyone who expects the most of you, it's self-sabotage, right?" Kiku queries worryingly, to which Alfred rebuttals a no.

"I'm going to be in the football team anyway when I graduate, Mr. Honda, so it all goes down the drain from there." Alfred shrugs, smiling lightly at the teacher's kindness. "Hey, you're cool, Mr. Honda. I didn't know this side of you until we started talking."

'That's because you're always been mean to me since the first day of school.' Kiku retorts, but he didn't say it anyway as he's happy he's speaking to the troublemaker properly.

"Say, whenever I'm off from practice, do you mind if I chill here for a little while and just chillax?" Alfred asks, bending down to get his sloppy backpack. "I feel comfortable around you, and even though I'm with friends I just need a place to… let loose, y'know? I just need some time to myself."

"If that is what you must, you may." Mr. Honda consents, walking back to his desk, "Although, please be quiet whenever you're in this classroom, I prefer to work in quiet areas where there is no interruption."

"It's a promise, dude!" Alfred throws out his pinky towards the grown teacher, although he's far away.

Kiku tilted his head in confusion, pausing his arrangement of papers as he was knocking them gently against the table.

Alfred, backpack slung over his shoulder, inched closer to the teacher until he's within arm's reach.

Mr. Honda silently eyed the finger, in a daze about whether the student would keep his promise or not, before setting the papers aside and reaching out to his student, the teacher's pinky meeting his.

"Promise."

"Promise!" Alfred broke away from Kiku's grip as he ran towards the classroom doors, not before putting his work to his assigned cubby. "Alright, I'm going to go eat dinner with my friends. See you later, Mr. Honda!" He shouts, before heading out.

"See you later, Alfred…" the teacher's voice trailed off before he was met with a loud bang from the door.

Quietness was suddenly met within the teacher's ears, standing all alone in his classroom.

Well, at least he's finally done with grading, and grading Alfred's work, too.

With a small smile, Kiku silently cleaned up his things and set his necessities in his small backpack, shutting down his computer after closing all his tabs. He then did his usual routine around the classroom as he cleaned up, setting his students' works back to their cubbies from the drying rack and setting the unnamed ones on a nearby table. 'Forgetful ones,' he thought, 'always forgetting to put their names on the back.'

From there, he starts packing up, zipping his backpack as he finally exits his classroom, shutting off the lights and locking the door with his assigned key. He sighs once more, safely keeping the said key inside his backpack before walking away from his work area, another day well done.

He wonders what he'll eat for dinner, perhaps in a nearby Japanese restaurant or using DoorDash to deliver to his dorm, who knows? Though, today, he feels like staying in, catching up on that anime he's currently binge-watching, the most popular anime in the season.

Putting work (and Alfred) aside his messy mind of thoughts, he walked among the halls to his dorm, excited to settle down and binge-watch all he can in one night.

#hws japan #hws america #hetalia world stars #hetalia #hetalia fanfiction #hetalia fanfic #aph america #aph japan #kiku honda #alfred f jones #hws fanfiction #ヘタリア #ヘタリア world stars #axis powers ヘタリア

[monaluisa]

#hetalia #aph spain #aph portugal #hetalia fanfic #hetalia lore