hetalia_kink | Hetalia Kink meme part 14 -- CLOSED

"England embarks on a quest to find out what male nation did the deed"

It'd be hilarious if it turns out to have been one of the girls XD

In honor of the upcoming elections in Sweden...

The Pirate Party (it exists for real, pirating as in downloading software/multimedia) wins a surprising majority and Sweden becomes a haven of file sharing and general weirdness. How does this affect Sweden's personality and how do the other nations react?

I would love to see Sweden be completely deadpan as he tries to defend this new direction...

It would be. XD But I don't want that to happen. lol

Pedophile!France doing naughty things to child!Arthur.

Bonus points:
-Arthur being naive and curious. ♥
-Francis being gentle and nice and cute and charming.

OP, I'm not sure if I'm going to have the time to fill right away, but I definitely have an idea for this one! >:D

Any other restrictions, other that the nation in question is male and not England? (I assumed it definitely shouldn't be England, and probably not France, since otherwise the quest to find out makes very little sense ...) Uh, and I wasn't considering anyone underage popping America's cherry, so no worries about consent! :)

Or anything random or wacky you'd like to see during England's investigation? I'm open to all sorts of fun insanity.

I encourage others to fill in the meantime, though, since this could be hilarious and there are so many possibilities here! <3

“You're always hungary, git,” England snorted

is this a jab authornon /snickers....

Sometime between becoming Russia's newest "special friend" and the unification of Germany, Prussia goes completely mute.

Of course, this doesn't stop him from generously spreading his awesome all over the less awesome parts of the world or causing wanton destruction on a whim or anything. He just hones his ability to piss people off without saying a word to perfection. And if everybody is extremely unnerved by his silence or waiting for the other shoe to drop, well, that's even better - it keeps them from asking too many questions and making him think about things he'd rather forget.

He underestimated the power of his brother's guilt complex, though, because Germany's not going to leave him alone until he finds out what happened to shut Prussia's big mouth.

tl;dr: angst, i would like some.

Oh. Oh.

Author!anon, that sound you just heard was me letting out an embarrassingly loud squee at your fill. This was exactly what I wanted, and your Japan was perfect. And I wish I could provide some concrit, but my mind is still too preoccupied with its internal squeeing for me to think of anything else to say right now. Just that you have made me love these two together even more, anon. :3

Oh wow, that was fast. How awesome! I'm so happy.

Nope, you nailed all the restrictions. Or maybe that's the wrong choice of words, but you know. XD

I don't really have any specific hijinx in mind, no. Investigated characters somehow thinking England's hitting on them could be amusing. Or characters who never would have considered boinking America now deciding it's a good idea? Idunno. lol I leave it open to see what craziness filler(s) come up with. :) Though I think it might be entertaining if France joined in on the quest, but that's entirely optional.

:D

Ah, cool. Heh, I have to admit, just about everything is the wrong choice of words when I'm in the room, since I'm such a twelve-year-old about innuendo. ;D

Hijinx is the perfect word, isn't it? Ah, and England's awkward questioning could lead to people thinking all sorts of embarrassing stuff, heh. And France is a must, though I'm not sure if he'll be participating or just pretending while secretly watching and leering, because he's already figured things out. I imagine he'll probably figure it out much faster than England, but I won't know for sure till I write! XD

Science Citizen scrubbed at his indescribable but still frustrated face. “There are only a few minutes before class is dismissed. Just… draw your partners and settle on a topic for next class. Please!”

Wasting no time, the students rushed the council President for the box.

Britain snatched a paper from the box for himself. “Who do I have here…?”

“Hopefully not me,” America muttered and shoved his hand in to pull out his own slip of paper. He held it close to his face. On it was the number fifteen.

Peering around, America noticed countries finding their partners by matching up numbers.

He waited until all the countries in the science class drew their partners and the final number of pairings had been plucked from the box.

America peered around with a suspicious look, trying to figure out who he was destined to be partners with. He walked through the aisles of desks, hiding his paper slip in the sleeve of his school sweater.

“Number fifteen!” A voice called out.

America smiled, his head whipping around to the direction of his partner’s voice. The voice belonged to… of course. Britain. Chief exporter of eyebrow.

His glasses nearly flew off his face. “Oh…NO! No way!”

Eyebrows looked somewhat pathetic as he called out his number like a bad game of bingo. “Fifteen! Fifteen? Bloody hell, who the hell is number fifteen?!”

“Okay. That’s not happening.” America started backing away, imagining study sessions consisting of how to brew tea properly and pop quizzes, forced etiquette lessons, and lots of deep-seated emotional baggage.

“Who wants to trade?!” He yelled at the top of his lungs. Everyone stared.

Latvia surged forward. “I-I-I-I…”

America didn’t even wait for the small country’s stuttered reply. He seized the offered slip.

“Oh sweet!” He grinned and jumped up on a desk to point to the sky. “I am Number ONE!” He articulated the point by punching the air on each word. “Oh man, that makes totally more sense, since I’m America!”

The small European country’s shakes and stutters somehow magically stopped one the number had left his hand. “Fifteen.” He breathed a sigh. “The United Kingdom is cruel and unusual, but at least he won’t stretch me out.”

“That sounds so gay.” America replied with a scrunched up nose. “Hey, Number One! Right over heeere!!” He waved but most didn’t pay him any mind.

Estonia looked relieved, sitting at the desk America was currently standing on. “I’m sure you will do a wonderful job working with Russia.”

On second thought, he could handle baggage. He could carry all the freaking tea bags in the world and deal with it. “I changed my mind Latvia, give me back number fifteen.” America smiled winningly.

“No trade backs!” The tiny blond squeaked and darted off towards the eyebrow country.

“Wait! Whaaaat!” America whined. His hubba bubba bubble had just burst. “Russia?… Seriously??”

“Da.” The tall country appeared at his left and America’s face screwed up in outrage as Russia took a hold of his waist and placed him on the floor. “We are partners!”

“Christ! Don’t touch me like that!” America cried out and whacked at the other country’s hand. Russia didn’t seem to mind.

“I’ll trade with you, America.” Belarus snuck up on him, because he totally hadn’t noticed that plastic model bone from the classroom skeleton being used as a weapon a moment ago.

“Uhhhhhh, who do you have?”

“France.” She replied, the tip of the fake bone pressing into him even harder.

“Stop poking me with your bone!”America laughed obnoxiously, and gave her a rough push away. “I’ll PASS.”

Unfortunately, Russia looked thrilled.

“You are being one with Russia in a literal way. It’s funny.” The big-boned nation cheerily chuckled.

That face and laugh. God, it was maddening.

***

Cont 1e

The professor came around with a clipboard and a pen. “I’m presuming you two are team one?”

“Yes.” Russia confirmed, and America’s lip twitched in barely concealed displeasure as the Citizen Man wrote down their names. “Topic?”

There was silence and the two countries stared at each other dumbly.

Science Dude sighed. “I’m leaving this sheet at the front of the room. Write it down before you leave. The rest of the class is gone already…”

America gripped at his hair. He could have left class early if he’d gotten a normal boring country, like Canada. “Okay, no problem.” He said with renewed optimism.

“I’ll choose our topic! Check this out. We make a documentary about the fifty brightest stars this side of the Milky Way!” He envisioned and threw his hands up in the air like he was holding a camera. He centered his picture on Russia and nodded with enthusiasm. “I can totally see this.”

“No.” Russia replied and his pleasant smile didn’t crack an inch, or centimetre, if the US wanted to think metrically. Which he didn’t. America grinned back in full annoying force.

“I’m talking about the fifty glorious states that make up ME!” He pounded his chest in pride. “What’s not to like?”

“You.” Russia said. “Your idea is foolish like usual. This is a written science report, 100 pages minimum length, due on the date—”

“Okay, okay, okay!” America’s face started to turn red, but he didn’t let the wind blow out of his sails yet. “Okay then. We can write about regular stars.”

“Alright.” Russia seemed to be relenting because he actually opened those violet eyes and looked down his long nose at him. He looked almost normal.

America smiled in triumph, his right hand making a fist of victory by his side. That was him, putting the order back into the universe.

“You have detention tonight.” Russia smiled back and the dirty blond country cursed. “Come to my room tomorrow night, we’ll work.”

The United States’ priceless expression fell right of his face and crashed to the floor. Russia came curiously closer, stepping all over it. “Da?”

“Why can’t we just meet at lunch?” America swallowed his gum as the other country leaned closer.

“Because,” Russia replied simply, a twinkle forming deep within those eyes. “Astronomy works best at night.”

***
End Chapter One

Seconded! Just because Hungary's feminine doesn't mean that she's not kickass.

Taking place either modern times or after Buon San Valentino's strips...

Something happens (incident, fight, etc) and both Germany and Italy end up losing consciousness.

When Germany wakes up, he has his memories of HRE up until he left for war (nothing afterwards). He runs to an unconscious Italy, waiting with all his confusion and jumbled feelings for him to wake...

only that when Italy wakes, he's got amnesia. He doesn't remember anything and is very afraid of Germany.

How this goes on is anon's pick, I just ask some angst, fluff and romance. I'd prefer a happy ending.

Bonus: the only one Italy trusts for a long time is his brother, who has to explain him everything and is surprisingly very calm and protective and gentle with Italy.

*nervous Authornon goes here*
That time, Matt turned around, giving his arm a punch with a scowl set on his face. He blinked, uncertainly and let his fist fall back to his side. He gave his brother a one-over before he chanced looking down at himself. Tan coat, dark pants, boots…he could deal with this. At least his uniform wasn’t a century out of date. He sighed a bit, keeping his voice down to keep from attracting too much attention, “Well…it could be worse, eh?”

“I guess…so uhm…what’s going on?”

“Arthur’s told you about his magic before.” The Canadian pointed out, his attention only partially on his brother and starting to drift back towards Francis and Arthur.

“Well, yeah, but…I mean…was this necessary?” He gestured between them and then towards the elder colonies, “And the room. These desks are not a pleasant flashback and…and…Braginski didn’t come in that damn jacket, did he?”

Matt gave him a quirked look then turned a look over his shoulder and frowned a bit. They weren’t the only ones no longer in suits. Ivan didn’t seem the least bit bothered; his smile was still pleasant as he adjusted the cuffs of his old Soviet uniform. If anything, he actually seemed positively delighted by the change. At the time, he was giving Francis a curious look, one that made Matt bristle, ever so slightly. He vaguely heard his brother snicker behind him and turned around to punch him again, just to halt, eyes narrowing over Alfred’s shoulder.

The American gave an uncertain blink; any intent he had to tease the Canadian evaporated with the glare and he curiously looked over his shoulder, following his brother’s glare and felt a cold shiver run down his spine at the same time as a surge of annoyance. Ludwig was still at the head of the table, glaring at the small gathering the Nordics and two former empires had formed. He’d seemed to recover from the change of scenery and garb quickest…or, he had yet to notice that his pleasant beige suit had darkened and loosened into a forgotten SS uniform. Alfred vaguely felt the familiar rush that he’d been addicted to during the Wars; that rush of emotion that said he wanted-needed- to be in the fray; to be one of the ones wiping the fascist bastards off the face of the Earth.

Of course, he could justify his addiction to his hero complex-he refused to admit he’d admired Ludwig and Gilbert’s fighting passion- though his brother…well, he couldn’t say he was sure why Matt was still glaring. Yeah, he’d been a primary fighter during the wars-Alfred still fought down the urge to vomit every time he thought of finding his brother on one of Arthur’s private surgeon tables, having various bullets, shells and other such materials pulled from his insides so he could recover- but, still. As he turned back to Matt, intent on trying to get him stop glaring, he gave Francis and Arthur another look over. When it hit him, he started inching out of Matt’s way in case the Canadian decided he needed an outlet; that glare wasn’t for Matt, or even Alfred. It was for Francis; everything the Germans had ever done to the French during the wars, things Matt had vaguely forgiven them for in a pleasant ‘do it again, I will never let you leave your grave’ manner; everything they’d tried to mend over the past decades was starting to unravel and Alfred didn’t doubt for a second that Matt would snap at the first chance he got.

A second glance around the room, revealed an odd pattern though; not everyone had changed and those that hadn’t were backing away from the table in shock. Those that had undergone the wardrobe change, either didn’t notice, didn’t care or had already moved past the shock phase and were keeping wary glares on the two former empires.

So I know there has been a few America/England dry humping requests, but I'd like to center this one mostly around dirty talking; preferably America describing /how/ he's going to fuck England.

Anon can't decide whether she wants it gentle and sweet (America telling Arthur how beautiful he is, how much he loves Arthur, all that cliche romantic stuff)
Or dirty and kinky (rough, fast, ect) so any anon who fills this is welcomed to choose what they like and, if possible, a fill for each plot would be amazing <3

Among the changed, was Yao…at which, Alfred actually had to stop and stare, blinking a few times to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. The subtle years of weariness, the subtle hints that alluded to the years of opium that usually hazed his eyes had faded, leaving them a sharp, startling hazel that made Alfred think of amber. His robes were intricate, red with designs of gold, with a large dragon weaving around his torso; beautiful, yes, to the point of intimidation. In tearing his eyes away from the Asian, he glanced over the corner in passing and blanched, quietly hoping his brother kept focused on the German behind him…though that wish, of course, was shattered within seconds, when Gilbert stood, matching his brother in dress and made his way towards the small gathering.

Matt had finally taken his eyes off of Ludwig, forcing his attention back to Francis in a vain attempt to curb any irrational desire to murder the other blonde on sight. It worked for a while as he idly let his gaze drift towards a second source of red and near groaned. Antonio, thank God, hadn’t recovered from his shock of wardrobe change just yet and was looking over his old pirate garb in disbelief, carefully feeling the sleeves, tracing the sleeve to his shoulder and then the rest of the jacket down his front. He didn’t seem to notice that his halberd had also regained its edge, looking fresh from the smithy. He shuddered a bit, closing his eyes as he turned away to look over everyone else behind them. Some nations had already fled the room-the Mediterranean, the Middle East, even quite a few of the Asians…the only ones remaining were Yao and Hien. He had the initial reaction that Alfred did, though, judging from the way his brother was still focused on Arthur he hadn’t quite noticed the Vietnamese woman…which was probably a good thing as she was alternating her glare between Francis and Alfred, though it remained predominantly on the American.

He finally forced his attention away and was immediately glaring again as he noted that Gilbert was standing next to Antonio. He drew the line there and stood, going to join their parental figures; in passing, he noticed Alfred joining him, but said nothing to his brother.

Of the Nordic nations, Arkin and Magnus were the only two remaining. Berwald had ended up picking the youngest two up-with Peter protesting the entire time, while the other muttered violently about dropping his puffin and this somehow being the Dane’s fault- and dragged them out; Tino had been close behind after retrieving Mr. Puffin and Hanatamago. Magnus stood tall next to the Norwegian, only vaguely bothered by the change from suit to uniform; his priority was on the two empires before him…Francis, especially as his blood ran cold and boiled simultaneously with recognition to the Napoleonic years. Those years that had lost him his lover. Arkin had given a passing glare to the Frenchman, also recognizing the uniform, but his attention had been engulfed by Arthur; the display of magic had upset him, perhaps more than it should have, but he was now especially on guard. Both promptly bristled at the short, sultry under breath laugh coming from the Frenchman.

“My, this does seem familiar…round two, then, mes amis?” The rapier made a pleasant ring as it was drawn in favour over the musket that had been idly tossed to the side. Magnus stepped forward, a scowl crossing his features as he hoisted his axe over his shoulder, balancing it for a strike.

“No need for that, now, is there?” A cool voice sounded from the side, easily distracting the four. Francis felt his blood run deathly cold, a dark look crossing his face as he took in Gilbert’s appearance. The albino smirked at him, leaning on Antonio and using the Spaniard as a prop for his arm, “C’mon, Francis…we can let bygones be bygones, liebe. What say we go for a few rounds and pretend this whole incident never happened?”

The words rang familiarity-the same words he’d uttered before the rise of war; the same words uttered after crowning his Prince in Versailles; before turning his beloved Paris to a prison. Francis had the mind to strike at the Prussian, turning the rapier on him when he pushed off of Antonio and made to close the space between them; the chance never game. Matt was between them before Gilbert had taken his third step, kicking the musket up to his hands as he walked by it and brought the butt end of it down on the Prussian, not so much as flinching when it resulted in a swear from both Gilbert and, on a lesser note, Alfred.

“Fucking brat--!”

“Christ, Matt, the Hell?!”

“Try that again, Weillschmidtt and the musket’s going to be the least of your worries.” Matt’s voice was cold, eyes narrowed dangerously as he spun the musket to hold it properly; technological advancements be damned and forgotten, his hands actually felt relieved to be melding to such familiarity if such a thing were possible. He thumbed over the custom model and smiled sickeningly sweet when Gilbert turned a violent glare on him, recovering from the shock of the blow and wiping the line of blood from his mouth.

Francis, however, looked genuinely amused and gave a deep, rich laugh that held the slightest hint of mania, “Well, it seems Arthur did teach you a few things. Bravo, Arthur.”

The Briton gave a small snort of amusement, though there was a hint of vicious pride in his eyes, “Of course I did, frog. It was bad enough havin’ you three raisin’ the little Hellion.”

“I wasn’t that bad.” Alfred muttered, warily taking his brother’s back, their shoulders pressing together firmly as he noticed Ludwig moving to join them, irritation clear on his face. In his peripheral, he took vague note that Yao and Hien were moving closer as well; judging from the cold tension that had fallen over the room, he wagered that Ivan was closing in from his side of the room as well. The brothers kept back to back, though they did inch a bit closer to the Europeans at Matt’s insistence.

All the same, Francis put a hand to their shoulders, forcing Alfred to turn. The others had taken a line; Arkin and Yao stood shoulder to shoulder, intimidation radiating from the two, despite the fact they were rarely seen together, their glares set quite evenly on Arthur; to Yao’s left, Ivan cast a looming shadow over the Chinese nation, more so with the cold air radiating from him, with Hien acting as his own tiny shadow, standing just behind the Russian. Both had their glares set on Alfred. Magnus didn’t look the least put off to be separated from Arkin at the moment; instead, he was crouched, just in front of Ivan and Hien, axe still poised to strike. Next to him, Antonio mimicked the position, a light of betrayal and revenge lighting the normally passive, cheerful green eyes. On Antonio’s left, making the end of the line, Gilbert and Ludwig stood shoulder-to-shoulder, a dark reminder of the early 1900s, of the Hell they had released in the Forties.

Francis gave the smallest smirk, casting a side glance to Arthur, meeting the devilish green eyes for the briefest of moments. He took note that Alfred’s expression had steeled, the American resolved to the fact that it didn’t matter what had happened or how; all that mattered was he was being threatened and he wasn’t going to take it easily. The American exchanged a quick look with his brother; violet eyes were still narrowed and were only taken off the Germans for the briefest of moments to give his brother a smirk that could easily rival Arthur’s at the time, that spoke everyone’s single thought.

Hell was going to break loose.

Authornon would like to point out she absolutely detests real life ~~and that she will one day actually type 'Author' on the first try and not 'Arthur'~~. Quite violently she does. But anyways, I did finally get time to write, thank you God. I won’t make promises of when the next parts will appear, as it seems that life likes screwing with me when I do, but the next bits will be in the following format:

Fight one -> England vs. Norway and China; Fight two -> France vs. Denmark and Spain; Fight three -> America vs. Vietnam and Russia; Fight Four -> Canada vs. Germany and Prussia. That’s not to say they aren’t helping each other [you’ll see what I mean, promise;;] but this is to keep from having too many characters to focus on at once. So, while the fights are all written and posted separately, they are going on at the same time.

I was originally going to use Cuba for America’s fight…and then realized, lawl, I fail at Cuba orz So, Vietnam it is! ~~…That and I wanted a reason for America having issues with hitting a girl~~

If anyone’s curious, smarter nations got the Hell out soon after shit hit the fan. I’ll also apologize for breaking the BTT, but…let’s be honest, guys. As much as we all love them together with their shenanigans, they have a violent history with one another. Especially during Napoleon which is France’s current mindset. So…please, pardon the breaking of the Trio.

Other than that, shameless plugging time! To find a compilation of this, and of other fics, please, wander over to me writing journal: advocateofchaos.livejournal.com ! There was a de-anon post in the main community and this will likely join it soon =3

Also, quick notes:
Hien -> Vietnam, Arkin -> Norway, Magnus -> Denmark…I think that’s all the fanon names and uh…yeah. Going to hide now and I apologize so profusely once more orz. Magical ass kicking to come next!

i wants this like UK/Japan being pushybottom!Kiku :P

Though i think this was consensual from the start /shot

England/France, cybering (phonesexing?). In that order. (England being the one who starts it all.)

preferably MSN/Texting, but anything goes. (Even phonesex, if cyber's not your thing.)

Basically America remembers Canada as an overindulged colony when he first came to England's house (a side-effect of all that French food, no doubt), and becomes independent before he can really see the slimming effect that England's food and discipline has on his neighbour. America next sees Canada... in 1811, and is surprised to find that he's fit (read: starved) and downright smexy.

Cue War of 1812. :)

Bonus: America making fun of Canada's weight
Bonus: Canada kicking Alfred's ass in his new state
Bonus: Some sort of grueling British training regimen that Canada refers to in passing whilst kicking Alfred's ass
Bonus: Canada making fun of America's weight in modern times.

The Country of Love and the Country of Passion having sex for the first time.

IT'S. THE. BEST. SEX. THEY. HAVE. EVER. HAD. AND. WILL. EVER. HAVE.

Seconded.

No, you aren't sucking at all, anon!

Oh, Alfred. I'm glad he's open minded enough to not freak out on Matthew. I don't think the poor boy could take that. :(

Again, still loving where this is going so far.

And if you do need suggestions for anything, ask away!

Hetalia Kink meme part 14 -- CLOSED

Re: France's Virgindar: Who did America?

Sweden as a rogue state

Re: France's Virgindar: Who did America? (OP)

FrUK, shota

Re: France's Virgindar: Who did America?

Re: You Take Me In (5/?)

Prussia, Germany; post-Berlin Wall Prussia is mute

OP

Re: France's Virgindar: Who did America? (OP)

Re: France's Virgindar: Who did America? (OP)

Drawing Circles In The Night 1d/?

Drawing Circles In The Night 1e/?

Re: Prussia/Hungary - "Treat Me Like a Girl"

GerIta, amnesia + memory recover

The Only Ones [6]

America/England- Dry humping with dirty talk

The Only Ones [7]

The Only Ones [8]

[Author's Note~]

Re: UK/Japan - Molestation turned consensual

England/France, cybersex.

Canada Was Fat As A Kid

Spain/France, delicious smut.

Re: Canada Was Fat As A Kid

OP