hetalia_kink | Hetalia Kink meme part 14 -- CLOSED

Hetalia Kink meme part 14 -- CLOSED

axis powers
hetalia kink meme
part 14

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ANON. YOU'RE SO AMAZING. THANK YOU FOR FILLING AND MAKING MY WEEK BETTER 8D

But anyways, I don't mind if it's character interactions. I don't anybody can really think of a plot for Duraheta that easily.

Plus, I love how instead of Ikebukuro, it's Hetabukura. It's so funny to me!

Anon would like to apologize for this crappy fill. I'm not even sure it's what OP wanted, but I wrote this and thought I might as well post it. This is the also the first time I've written smut, so please excuse the fail...

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It had been a fairly uneventful day in Spain’s household. Everyone was sound asleep in bed. Well, nearly everyone. Romano remained awake. He had been tying to fall asleep for a while now but there was something on his mind. Something that he wanted to figure out.

Taking a deep breath, he got out of bed and cautiously opened his door. He was a little embarrassed to be doing this, after all, only little kids went and woke someone up if they couldn’t get to sleep, but Belgium was nice and he knew that she wouldn’t tell anyone. Sure, she might tease him, but that would be it. A blush crossed his cheeks when he though of her.

Romano tiptoed blindly down the hall until he reached her door. With a deep breath, he slowly opened it and slid in. Edging to her bed, he started to sweat and his heart began to race. Once he was there, he nudged her side a little, hoping to wake her up. His eyes adjusted to the darkness and he looked at the sleeping form a little hungrily. Even when she was asleep he thought she was pretty.

“Hmm? Romano? What are you doing up?” He jolted backwards, turning bright red and gluing his arms to his sides.

“I was…” The boy tried to think of a good way to explain himself. “I couldn’t get to sleep…”

Belgium sat up and swung her legs off the bed. “And you thought I could help?”

With a nod, he sat down on the bed, making sure that he was a distance away from her.

She started to laugh and swung an arm around him, pulling him close. “How old are you now? I’m sure you can fall asleep on your own. What’re you really up to, Lovi~?” Pinching his cheek a little, she giggled.

His face reddened and he tried to act calm. “I… I heard your brother talking about stuff with someone and I wanted to figure out what it was about.”

Instantly her laugh stopped. If this had something to do with her brother, it couldn’t be good. “What kind of thing was he talking about?”

Romano took another big breath. “He was talking about girls… without clothes…”

A pause. “Lovi, let me guess. You want to know what girls look like?” He gave a tiny nod and Belgium moved her arm away from him. “Do you promise to go to sleep later?” Another nod. “Fine, I’ll show you, okay?”

This was not what Romano had expected at all and he turned tomato red when he saw that she had begun to take of her pajamas. As much as he liked to talk big, he had never seen a girl like this before and no one had ever thought to give him any kind of talk.

She finished undressing and looked over at the sixteen year old as he tried to avoid looking. A smile crossed her face and she thought he looked cute. Sitting back down on the bed, she grabbed his hand. “It’s too dark for you to see properly, right? So you can feel if you like.”

Trying to calm down, he squeezed her hand a little and looked at her eyes as if asking if it was really okay. When he saw her nod, he bit his lip a little before reaching his hand out to touch her cheek. She giggled and he nearly jumped away but her hand on his held him there. “It’s really fine, Lovi. I don’t bite.”

Settling back down, he moved closer to her, his heart beating quicker than he thought it ever had before. She slid backwards on the bed and pulled him with so that he was over her. Romano knew that he was blushing even more now if that was even possible. Leaning in, he pressed a light kiss to her forehead and slid his hand down to her neck and rested his other on her stomach. Belgium laughed again, but this time it was more… breathy.

Swallowing even more nerves that had popped up, he moved his hand up to her chest and gingerly cupped one of her breasts. It was softer than he imagined it would be and slightly more squishy. Giving it a tentative squeeze, he heard her gasp a little and pulled his hand away. “No, Romano, don’t stop, you’re doing fine.” Her voice reached his ear and he sensed a neediness to it that he had never heard from her before. Returning his hand, he felt all along the breast before turning his attention to her nipple. It was hard and he gave it a small pinch.

She moaned and right as he was about to pull his hand away, she grabbed his wrist and held it. “Please, don’t stop, Romano.” This time her voice was even more lustful and he responded by playing with her nipple between his fingers. A series of moans greeted him and he moved his other hand to tease her other nipple.

Arching her back to meet his hands, her eyes slipped closed. It had been a long time since anyone had touched her like this and she knew that she was enjoying this far more than she should have. “Mmm~ Keep going, Romano, it feels so good~”

The boy had gotten over his initial shyness and leaned in to give one of her nipples a soft kiss, moving that hand to caress her side. A sudden urge crossed through his mind and he stuck out his tongue to lick the pink nub. When she moaned louder, he gave the nipple a suck and his hand moved to her inner thigh, hungry for more. It wasn’t enough to touch her chest, no, he wanted more of her. He wanted her to arch in the bed and moan his name, begging for more.

Belgium threaded her fingers through his hair, careful to avoid the curl that he always hated to have touched. She had thought she would be able to let him explore her without getting turned on like this. However, she had forgotten that he was an Italian and knew what he was doing by instinct. She wasn’t about to stop him now, as wrong as this felt, especially not when his hand had begun to explore her folds and his tongue was laving attention on her- Oh! Writhing, she moaned loudly when Romano’s fingers had found the bundle of nerves at the top of her slit.

Knowing that this was not a sound of pain, Romano began to rub the spot, enjoying the squirms and pleased gasps for air he was wringing out of her. A grin crossed his face and he pulled his attention away from her chest. She reached out to pull him back, but he avoided her and instead focused his attentions to her clit, giving it a long lick.

Her hands clenched in the bedsheets and she moaned his name, all thoughts erased aside from wanting more. More heat. More contact. His tongue ran the length of her slit and he was slightly surprised at the wetness there but thought that was something he could figure out later. Right now, he had something more important to do.

Fingers joined the tongue and her hips thrust against them. Feeling the urgency, he pushed a finger inside of her and gave her clit a suck. The loudest moan yet escaped her lips and Romano pushed his finger in and out, sliding back up to kiss her cheek as he prepared to slip another finger inside her.

Reaching out to cling to him, she panted and thrust against his fingers. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she held on tightly to him as she climaxed. He smiled and kept moving his fingers in and out, more than a little smug that he had managed to go so far with her and make her this happy.

Slumping against him, she sighed and moved to pull his fingers out. She purred and kissed him lightly. “You can stop now, I’m done. Now go to sleep, okay sweetie?”

Romano pouted a little at the pet name but grinned, giving her another kiss and sneakily wiping his hands off on the sheet. Now he just had to get rid of the problem that was growing in his pajama pants…

This was actually kind of sweet, and I thought it was funny how Belgium thought "What in the world told me that I could allow an Italian touch my body without getting turned on? That's almost impossible!"

America rubbed his eyes and stared at the clock. It was four-fifty-six in the AM, and he still hadn’t found sleep. It’s not like he hadn’t tried. God-- he’d even tried sleepy-time tea! TEA. Still nothing-- damn tea lied. AND RUSSIA. That fucker. That fucking… fucking…Russia. How dare he! How could he just LEAVE after doing… THAT? Alfred had half a mind to march on over to that cold, frigid nation and slap him across his fucking face! He rolled onto his stomach and hit the pillow before shoving his own face into the depression.

‘Can’t breathe, can’t breathe, can’t breathe‘-- America flipped back over on his back and took a huge gulp of air. He glared at the darkened ceiling, made hazy by his lack of glasses, and wondered if it just wouldn’t be better to put the damn thing on and stop all of th-- ‘HELL NO,’ Alfred corrected his obviously sleep-addled brain. The bed. It was totally the bed’s fault for these treacherous thoughts.

Alfred rolled onto the floor with a ‘thwump‘, and an ‘oof’, and lay there instead. He yanked the last of the blankets off the bed, and rolled onto his side facing the underneath of the bed. At least he’d know if any monsters had manifested themselves. America frowned, and reached his hand under the bed and dragged out a box. ‘I don’t remember putting this here.’

In the brighter-than-the-pitch-blackness-under-his-bed, non-light, Alfred was able to make out the shape of the box. It looked like a shoe box, but was rather too elongated and skinny to actually contain shoes. ‘Unless they’re super skinny, long shoes,’ he mused, slipping his fingers under the lip of the lid. ‘Maybe they’re clown shoes? I don’t remember buying clown shoes.’ Maybe he had, one way to find out! Alfred flipped the lid off.

He blinked and stared at the blue, glassy--- Alfred slammed the lid back down, face burning, and shoved it back under the bed. DEAD. RUSSIA WAS SO FUCKING DEAD. Alfred leapt to his feet, and then toppled over when the blanket twisted it’s way around his ankles. “IS THE WHOLE ROOM GOING RED?!”

With a good amount of tripping and cursing, Alfred made his way into the kitchen- Texas firmly on his face. If he couldn’t sleep, he might as well drown his tiredness in sweet, delicious coffee. He almost broke down in sobs when he got to the kitchen and remembered that the damn thing was broken. His poor, wonderful coffee maker had faced a dangerous standoff with the kitchen floor the day before, and lost. ‘Poor, brave soldier,’ Alfred thought, giving a small, sad solute to the empty space on the counter, ‘you will not be forgotten.’

Alfred rubbed at his eyes and tried to think of what to do about his coffee problem. ‘If there’s no coffee in the house,’ he tried to connect the dots, ‘then… I should go out of the house to get coffee!’ He gave himself a small victory pat for thinking of such an amazing, and easy to manage plan. This is why he was the hero.

Eight fifty, and almost forty minutes later, and Alfred was back in the comforts of his own home, with a nice, hot, steaming cup of coffee in one hand, and the video game controller in the other. ‘Ha. Who needs sex when they have coffee and video games? Not me!’ Except… he’d rather have the coffee, video games, AND the sex. He frowned and glared at the television screen, sipping his coffee tentatively as one of the in-game characters blathered on.

He played until his eyes felt scratchy, and his hands were in pain, before shutting the game off and stretching his arms above his head. There was nothing quite as relaxing as beating the shit out of a virtual character. Alfred stifled a yawn with the back of his hand--maybe now he could finally get some sleep-- and glanced at the digital clock.

Alfred yawned again and stood up, running a hand through his bedraggled hair. Twelve-thirty-two. Not too shabby, if he did say so himself. Could have used more coffee, though. Ah well, it’s for the best. Time for some good ol’ shuteye.

‘Before that,’ he decided, ambling past the counter and spying his phone, ‘I might as well check to see if Russia’s finally given up, and decided to come crawling back.’ He smirked when he flipped the cell phone open and saw that he had 12 unread texts. Alfred’s look darkened when he saw that not a single one of them was from Russia. Actually… they mainly seemed to be from Arthur, and a few from Germany. ‘What?’

His eyes skimmed over the first one: Alfred, where the bloody hell are you? It was supposed to start at nine thirty! You better not have forgotten. -Arthur. Well, that was nice. What was supposed to start at nine thirty? He skipped down to the seventh, hoping it would shed some light on what exactly he was missing: Alfred, my idea of a compelling meeting DOES NOT include sitting here in near silence while we wait for your sodding arse to arrive! -Arthur

Alfred blinked, and chose to ignore the ones by Germany, if Arthur was anything to go by, they would not be happy. He frowned, there was a meeting today? Why hadn’t he been info--- ‘SHIT,’ he could practically feel the blood moving away from his face. ‘Shit, shit, shit, shit, FUCK.’ He dashed around in a frenzied manner, finally ending up in front of the bathroom mirror with a suit and tie slung over his arm. Was there time to take a shower and look a little less like he’d spent the night playing videogames in a dark room? He glanced at his watch. NO, there was not enough time.

He changed quickly, managing to trip himself as he was pulling on the pants, and falling- none too gently- to the ground. ‘No time, no time, no time,’ had become his mantra as he scrambled to his feet, and it was a horribly true one. ‘Moron!’ he insulted himself for the hundredth time, ‘How could you forget the MEETING?! You’re the freaking host!’

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Alfred muttered to himself as he snatched his car keys from the little bowl next to the door. He was already late, way late, there was no way they hadn’t already started, he was just hoping that when he did, finally, show up, they wouldn’t give him hell.

__

A/N:

Hey, everyone.

"IS THE WHOLE ROOM GOING RED?!"-- Red: Derogatory term used during the cold war to describe communists. 'Better dead than red.' 'Better red than dead.'

That's all.

@_@;;

A/N: I feel like I really futzed Russia here, and he’s usually the one I write best. What. I’m sorry. XD ...also the chapter count got away from me. /cough

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There’s a thunderstorm outside. America brushes cold condensation off the inside of the window, looks out just in time to see a flash of lighting reveal the contours of a cloud—probably, she figures, the cloud that’s causing all this to begin with.

It’s not helping her motivation. The rain’s always made her a little tetchy.

“America.”

She leans her forehead against the window, trying to will him away, somewhere else. For now. She doubts it will work, of course, knows it won’t, really, but she turns around—

“Yeah, Russia?”

He moves closer. Smiles at her, in that way he has where she doesn’t know whether or not he means it, then reaches forward and lets his knuckles brush against the skin of her breast. (Okay, so he means it.)

His fingers slide further downwards, so she watches, the edge of her bra—cream-colored, lacy, it’s not for Russia because he doesn’t notice things like that, it’s for America because she likes it—catching up his fingerpads, a barrier, making him stop. And he just smiles again, so she smiles back.

“Hello.”

…God. “Dumbass… hi.” She swears. Anyone else would earn nothing but an amused stare, but fuck, Russia’s too genuine; she remembers trying to explain that once upon a time, trying in the face of everything to tell her leaders that he was a good guy really, just—

“You should, I think, stop letting your mind wander,” he admonishes before kissing the edge of her mouth. “It could become dangerous, mm?”

She shrugs. “We caught you with spies in me, like, three months ago.” She catches him blushing at her wording but doesn’t respond. “Doesn’t seem to have upset much of anybody.”

He nods, kissing the same spot again. “I might not be the only one.”

“Tch. Shut up.” Russia flinches a little, she ignores it—must just be the chill from the window.

“I find it strange that somehow you get away with being so—ah. Careless? Thoughtless?”

“Free. Nobody makes America panic on her homefront!” America salutes, grins at him, and laughs a little. “…well, except you, back then.”

Russia blinks. “America. You think about the Cold War too much. I know you like your James Bonds movies—“

“Bond.”

“Yes, yes. But still: I am not your ‘dirty commie’ anymore. You should stop thinking that I am.” And then his wording makes her think. She doesn’t blush, but… maybe her cheeks warm up a little. But she doesn’t blush, because that’s… uncool. But yeah- dirty.

Right, okay.

“Russia.”

He looks up. And takes his hands off her boobs. “Yes?”

“I wanna have a foursome.” All at once. Just like that. Like a band-aid.

Russia stays where he is, stays standing still, but an eyebrow raises.

“I…” Dammit, she’d hoped he’d be okay with this. She was counting on it, actually. How the hell do you argue that a foursome is a good idea anyway? “I… aside from the fact that we would need other people—“

“Germany and Italy—“

“Ah,” he replied. To his credit, a little of the confusion went away; she hoped the rest would follow, because dammit she wasn’t in the mood to argue with him about this. They were both stubborn as hell. “…why?”

“Cuz it’d be nice. And… I don’t know, maybe you’d loosen up a little. Actually initiate sex once in a blue moon. Wear t-shirts and start using contractions?” America laughed at that—trying to show Russia that, hey, he should laugh too: it’s a joke, don’t take everything too seriously.

Unfortunately, he just crosses his arms. “If you want me to initiate sex, why didn’t you ask?”

Her jaw dropped. “That would work?!”

“Why… wouldn’t it?”

“Um.” The thunder took the opportunity to cut her off. “I… I dunno? I just. I mean, Italy brought it up first, I just thought it sounded really hot, and… yeah?”

Okay, and now he was smiling again… great. “America…”

“Look just shut up! I’m sorry, okay, I’ll go tell ‘er it’s off, whatev—“
“No, no, please.” Whoa, that wasn’t a smile anymore. The hell that was a smile. That was evil. “Who am I to argue with ‘really hot’? As I believe you’d say—I’m in!”

Also, Lithuania must be filming it.

THAT IS
THAT
I DON'T EVEN

SECONDING. JUST SECONDING.

Oh Russia I love you.

This was great...I liked the look into both their relationship but America's head. And Russia was just fantastic.

Much Love! :-)

I love this. I love this a lot. ~~I swear Hungary makes everything sexy.~~

Author!Anon, this is delicious. I like it how you write England: caring but stern. And America's need for attention, his almost greedy need to be the centre of England's (of everyone's later in his life) world is one of his basic traits. I think the part when he's wondering about being a super-power was great.

I appreciate that America is not clueless regarding rent-boys and France's intervention, how carefree he's when sharing information about England. And him calling Arthur "Angleterre" is a favourite of mine.

All in all, great fill, Author!Anon!!!! I can't wait to see where it goes.

Op here,

love love love it!!!! Thank you so much :)

England clicked the light on, and stepped up to the mirror. He cleaned his face in the sink, rubbed his eyes, and then tilted his chin up, leaning back ever so slightly so that the dim light from the fixture above the sink could reach the little bruises there, hickies dotted over his collar bone and neck. Little marks of possession. England brushed each in no particular order, a bizarre connect-the-dot, and sighed. The floor was bloody cold, as it always was that time of year. In fact, having just climbed out of bed, the entire room was cold, and England was glad that he had put on a pair of sweatpants before coming to brush his teeth.

Goosebumps were rising on his skin. He should turn the heat up, maybe. Oh, but it would be plenty warm in bed. And that made him smile, the thought of his bed being warm. Lately, it seemed to be warm quite often, and that was a nice change. England had even begun turning down the heat, it was so warm in bed. In retrospect, this probably accounted for why he was freezing his bollocks off.

England’s fingers continued their journey over the hickies, and his fingers paused on a particularly large mark as hands came to rest on his hips and Prussia’s head came to rest on his shoulder, on the opposite side of where England’s hand was touching.

“Don’t you like them?” Prussia asked, a hum of laughter in his voice. His chest pressed against England’s back. It was still warm from the bed, and England leaned into it. It really was cold in the bathroom.

“They’re fine, I guess,” he grumbled. In truth thinking about them made the tops of his ears burn because they were clearly marks of possession, but he couldn’t admit that. Prussia would start getting ideas. Similarly, England had to struggle briefly against the hands on his hips. Not because he didn’t want them there, but because they felt like they fit there perfectly, and that was unacceptable. His struggles only encouraged Prussia, who removed his hands from England’s hips only to wrap his arms around England.

England huffed, but admitted defeat.

Laughing, Prussia said, “They’re more than fine and you know it.” And then his mouth latched onto England’s neck right under his jaw, giving him yet another hicky and thwarting England’s attempts to stop him.

“Shut up,” England told him, and finally swatted Prussia away. He pulled his face into a scowl, telling Prussia, “Get back to bed, I’ll be right there,” but Prussia just smirked at him.

“No,” his boyfriend said stubbornly, and wrapped his arms around England again, “Not unless you come with me. I’m too awesome to be alone.” He tugged and pulled England towards the door, back to the gentle darkness of the bedroom.

I guess I don’t have to brush my teeth, England thought, and bit out a, “Fine,” before letting Prussia finally drag him back to bed. He would brush his teeth in the morning, anyway. And it was much warmer under the covers with Prussia.

Writernon finally! I got realllllly sick and so posting was hard. But here it finally is! I... can't remember what my list of stuff was. uhh... the Italies I guess. I think I said I was going to do France/Russia, but I'm actually going to do that for another request -- with smut! -- so I don't think I'll be doing any for this request.

Otherwise.... more Prussia. Not sure who with, yet. Also I really want to write some Romano. So, maybe a second Prumano fill? Who knows.
Open to suggestions. Give me a holler if I forgot something you requested.

Awww, Russia, why so cute? XD
Great fill!

Ahh, this is so cute, and a Prussia pairing that I'd never really thought about, but it's nice. Prussia doesn't get to be happy often enough.

Sorry it took so long to review. School has been a killer.

Ah so Alfred has a heart after all, somewhat.

This one was a nice little break from all the chills and spooks, not that I'm complaining, and made me aw a little.

Nice.

Ah, this is one of those myths that made it across th Atlantic to Quebec, actually. Not far from where I live there is the story of La Loup de Lafontaine, which is very similar to these stories.

I'd love to fill, though I hope you don't mind that there isn't rape. Not really my cup of tea.

:D Thank you. I am considering writin' some smut, but time will tell.

Russia/Lithuania is a very good idea! Especially for how poor Lithuania is going to come out in my continuation of that Russia/Canada/Cuba mess up there, if I ever get around to writing it. I will do it!

http://sophophobia.deviantart.com/art/Oregon-Trail-Dysentery-APH-174176007

I know how you feel~
I've actually been sleeping all day cause I got sick~

You could say that~XD

I'm glad you like it. Most of the stories I found in Washington were of Ghosts so... That's what I went with~

A/N: Dang it, this is getting narmy. Why is it that everytime I use my Native America OC, things get narmy?

That was the first time she’d ever told that lie, and it would be far from the last. Every country that came to settle in their home would make the same claims. “That boy looks like us, so he must belong to us,” and she told them the same things she told England. If they knew his father was a European nation, it would only fuel their already boiling sense of entitlement to her boys. They were hers and only hers. She kept repeating that to convince herself it was the truth, but destiny worked against her. No matter what she did, everything would eventually end up in their favor. She fought as hard as she could, with all the fire in heart, but even when victory seemed within her grasp, it was quickly snatched away with the deadly hand of disease. Peace never lasted between them and her. She eventually recognized that it was no use trying to beat them, and she was left defeated and broken, kicked westward again and again.

“When I finally realized…that they were right…and my worst fears had come to pass…I gave one last attempt to stay with you. Even if your appearance was a sign that everything I held dear would end up in a stranger’s hands…I hoped that maybe I could still have a chance to raise you with them. France gave me an offer…he said ‘If you help me fight England, you can see your sons again,’ but it was never meant to be…” She could barely speak now, failing to hide her trembling voice or her large tears, “…It felt horrible…to look back on my short time as your mother…and to think that you were never mine to begin with! You looked so happy with them, and you fit in perfectly with them!”

“M-Mom…” America couldn’t help but cry himself now. An incredible sense of guilt penetrated him; he had been of no help, as a child or as an adult, to keep his birth family together. He tried to say something, anything to relieve the sorrow he just put his mother through by reminding her of the past, “Mom, I-I was yours! I don’t…completely look like Sweden…”

“But…your hair, eyes…nose…you even knew their language before you even met them…how was that not a sign?”

“Mom…Canada and I…have the same shaped face as you, don’t we? A-And our eye shapes are similar, too.” America smiled in attempt to alleviate the despair. Slowly, her crying was reduced to light sniffling.

“I guess…that much is right…”

“A part of me…no matter how small…will always belong to you. I’m absolutely positive Canada feels the same way.”

“Your words are comforting, son. I guess I should be grateful that we still talk with each other…even if the opportunity to do so is rare.”

“I know I’ve been asking a lot of questions…but could you answer just one more?”

“Of course.”

“It’s very personal, but I want you to be completely honest.”

“What is it, my son?”

“Did you ever regret…having me in the first place?” Alfred’s face became solemn, but poised. His nerves sunk down to his legs as he waited for an answer. There was not even a crackle from the flames as Native America went silent. She looked like she was about to answer immediately, but no words formed and she was forced to contemplate on her answer. Even second she hesitated seemed to make it more and more like she was going to say yes.

“It’s okay if you say yes, Mom. I won’t be upset. If you hadn’t conceived with Sweden…maybe, just maybe…the guys would have had no stake here, and you would still have your home. I’ll understand if you think that…I-I’d probably think it too if I were in your shoes!” He meant to sound understanding, but unfortunately, empathy and tact were never his strong points.

His mother covered her hand with her mouth and turned her head away as tears started to rain down again. The flames from which she appeared began to sort of flicker and die down as if their spiritual connection was dwindling. The emotional shock of these revelations finally took their toll, drawing the last straw as neither was able to focus hard enough to keep in contact.

“Mom…!” America choked out as the campfire extinguished.

Matthew wondered why he had never thought to get a friend of the female persuasion before this time. Now it seemed glaringly obvious that such a friend was a benefit to him. For one thing, Michelle could get certain necessaries from the store without drawing unwanted attention to herself. Matthew could even accompany her, to a certain extent. If he showed too much interest in what she was buying, he would likely be labelled as gay. And he wasn't gay, he was straight. He didn't even want to think of how disappointing and confusing that might be to a guy who just wanted somebody to love.

Michelle knew what to do with make-up, knew how to hide his flaws with it in ways that the Internet hadn't been able to provide, and most of all she could talk to him as a girl. They had different ideas of what to do when they left high school, but Matthew could tell her in all confidence about the nuclear family in the little house he dreamed of, and she could listen with the sort of patience Matthew had hitherto only received from his brother, who didn't understand certain parts of what he was saying. Michelle got it almost immediately.

"You just want to be secure," she smiled. "Secure in your identity, and in everything. Papa's much the same now. That's why we moved here, so he could have a predictable life to live."

"What happened to your Dad?" Matthew asked curiously. Michelle sighed, and jiggled her knee anxiously.

"We don't really talk about it," she said simply, and brightened up. "Would you like some comfort food? I can make pancakes."

Matthew grinned from behind the purple pillow he had been squishing against his chest, and hopped up to join his friend.

"You're so cute!" Michelle smiled back, and ruffled Matthew's hair. "Have you ever tried pigtails?"

Matthew's nose wrinkled just slightly at this.

"Ew," he intoned. The dark girl crossed her arms and tapped her feet, and he had to explain himself further. "I don't have the right face for it. I'd look like a hooker."

There was a knock on the door, and Michelle just about skipped to the door to answer.

"Oh, hi Alfred!" she said in a mock-surprised tone. "What are you here for?"

"I'm here to ransom Maddie," Alfred said cheerfully. "Because I am screwed in about ten thousand ways for this English assignment."

"Well, if you didn't sleep through English class, then you wouldn't have that problem," Matthew said, poking Alfred on the forehead. His brother was getting good; he didn't even spare a confused glance at Matthew's powder-blue camisole and hip-hugging pyjama pants. Instead he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

"Take mercy on your stupid brother, Mad'leine?" he said pleadingly. Matthew pouted, and turned to Michelle.

"What do you think?" she asked teasingly. Michelle grinned a wide Charlie Brown grin and her eyes rolled to the heavens.

"I think we're making pancakes, and your puppydog brother will scratch on the door if we don't let him in sooner or later," she said. "My dad won't mind."

"Thanks, Michelle," Alfred said with a smile. "And pancakes! I definitely need to crash more girls' nights in, huh?"

"Get your ass in here before people see me," Matthew snapped. Alfred obeyed, just as Francis walked by to the kitchen.

"I heard someone say pancakes, Michelle, and if you think I'm letting you get close to the stove alone after what happened with the blender..." he started calmly. "Hello, Alfred."

"How do you know it's me?" Alfred said, overawed.

"Adorable, really," Francis said drily. "Michelle, help me with the batter. Alfred must be truly desperate to track down his sister here for school help."

"Yes Papa."

"Maddie, how is it that Michelle's dad knows you're a girl before our dad knows?" Alfred asked in an undertone as they sat at the kitchen table with his English texts.

"I didn't tell him, if that's what you're saying," Matthew said, blushing to his ears. "He thought I was a girl right off the bat."

"It doesn't really matter how he knows, Madd. But Dad's still Dad, and sooner or later he's going to find out. He has to."

Matthew swallowed drily and nodded. He knew that he was only postponing that day when he would have to tell his father everything, but he still wasn't ready. What would Dad do?

"It won't be that bad, Maddie. If you could tell me, then you can tell him. It's not like he'll turn you out of the house, and even if he does, Michelle could take you in..."

"Could you shut up and concentrate on your homework? What is it you're having trouble with?" Matthew said sharply.

Alfred sighed, and dropped the subject. This talk would have to wait.

Lately though, he had noticed that while Dad wanted more and more to talk to Matthew, the more and more he was being shut out. this might have been unintentional; Matthew was obviously concerned with many other things and probably didn't know the effect it was taking on others. But at the same time it was hard to see Dad come home and casually state that Matthew must be next door again. It was hard to see Dad try not to be too hurt when it was just the two of them in the house.

Alfred wondered when Matthew would finally get around to telling Dad the truth about himself. it probably wouldn't be today, or next week, but when would it be? When Matthew was two provinces away and fully out to everyone else in the world? Alfred loved his Dad, probably even more than Matthew, and he couldn't stand keeping secrets from him, though he had promised his brother he would.

He listened to his brother explain Death of a Salesman to him for the third time that month, and resolved that he would get Matthew to tell Dad the truth later this week.

Haha I would totally chase someone for two hours too way to go Germany XD

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Hetalia Kink meme part 14 -- CLOSED

OP flails when she shouldn't

Exploration (1a/1)

Exploration (1b/1)

Re: Exploration (1b/1)

Ptichka 2a/?

Ptichka 2b/?

4 [3a/5]

4 [3b/5]

Re: USA/S. Italy/N. Italy/Canada, 'Conquering'

OP

Re: Housewife Complex

OP!

Re: a quick artfill

Lovebites (one/one)

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Re: Lovebites (one/one)

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Re: France - 1764, Attacked by The Beast of Gévaudan

Lovebites (writernon)

relevent to your interests?

No worries~

Omens 8/?

Walls (6a/?)

Walls (6b/?)

Re: 6 AM is 5 Hours Too Early