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Human AU. Arthur is Francis' ex-lover who was close with child!Alfred in the past. They had a bad break up that's why they fight a lot.
Alfred saw his father and Arthur having sex. When he's entering puberty he starts having wet dreams about Arthur that made him avoid Arthur just before Arthur broke up with Francis and left their lives.
Alfred now all grown up met Arthur and wants him.
Alfred saw his father and Arthur having sex. When he's entering puberty he starts having wet dreams about Arthur that made him avoid Arthur just before Arthur broke up with Francis and left their lives.
Alfred now all grown up met Arthur and wants him.
Why do I want this so much? Seconded~
Human Au or not.
China's POV. Russia and China in an abusive/possessive relationship. China sick of it all tries to kill Russia in the end. Whether he succeeds or not is up to you.
China's POV. Russia and China in an abusive/possessive relationship. China sick of it all tries to kill Russia in the end. Whether he succeeds or not is up to you.
Oohhhh... Seconded just to see how someone would write this!
<---ish such a psychological genre whore.
<---ish such a psychological genre whore.
It's said that Northern Italians tend to run taller than those of the South. In the reverse, there were also stats about Southern Italians running a little heavier in BMI and body weight than their neighbors up North. I'd like to see something with the brothers and these differences, combined with the other ones we already see. And with a little bit of insecurity from Romano about his little brother being a bit taller and thinner.
Either smut, dark, fluff, or somehow even a mix if filler wants are all appreciated!
Either smut, dark, fluff, or somehow even a mix if filler wants are all appreciated!
How bad is it that this anon loves South Italy angst and insecurity? Probably because anon is just like Romano I'll think about this one, but other anons please fill as well!
I'd like to see something exploring the fact that Italy is much older than Germany, nationwise. So I guess I'm looking for Italy with a bit of depth. Smut is not required, but if you want to go in that direction, fine with me! Open request is open!
this is the anon that promised something in the discussion post. i'm hoping to do another fill for this request--so many plot bunnies, so little time. anyways, this was based off risorgimento.
Prussia bounces him a little on his hip, a motherly action that is so weirdly out of place on such a warlike nation. A faint smile is on his lips. “What do you think?” He asks guardedly. Prussia is cautious; he has every right to be.
For in Prussia’s arms is the nation that Italy once thought he knew, the nation that Italy loved and will love for years to come. His blue eyes, blond hair, and chubby cheeks are all there—all that’s missing is that ridiculously oversized hat and that billowy navy cloak.
“Holy Roman Empire.” Italy whispers, clutching the leather strap that holds a rifle across his back.
Prussia stiffens. “No,” he corrects sharply, “The German Confederation.”
Italy shakes his head furiously. “France told me he was dead!” He cries, and reaches out his (weary, weary) arms to touch the boy.
It doesn’t matter that Italy has long grown up and left the children’s world of scribbled bunnies on the edges of canvas and impromptu piano recitals in the drawing room. It doesn’t matter that Italy now has the body of a fifteen-year-old and the boy who isn’t the Holy Roman Empire but still is haven’t met in over six decades. Italy still—still, god, after all this time—still aches with everything he has for this boy.
“Italy!” Prussia reprimands curtly, and Italy snaps his hand back, as if burned.
The boy cocks his head up to give Prussia an inquisitive look. Italy’s breath catches in his throat. “Prussia…” Italy pleads.
Prussia shakes his head. “You need to understand,” Prussia’s voice is harsh, “this isn’t the Holy Roman Empire. This is—“
“—The German Confederation, I know,” Italy finishes for him. “But Prussia—“
“You can’t remind him of his past. What we need—what he needs—is a clean slate. A memory devoid of humiliation.”
Italy almost cries. But, instead: “Give him to me,” Italy insists.
Prussia eyes him suspiciously, but with great reluctance hands over his precious bundle. The boy makes no sound of protest; he merely clings to his new holder’s uniform tighter.
Italy can feel the boy’s small, quiet heartbeat through his warm skin. “You’re really miraculous, you know?” He whispers softly. “All these years…”
The boy gurgles happily and begins to suck on his thumb.
Italy laughs. “It’s okay, though,” he tells the boy, “we’ll have all the time in the world to make up for what we lost. I can tell you stories about Austria and Hungary and big brother France and big brother Spain, and…” Italy trails off, voice gone in favor of giving the boy in his arms an adoring look.
The boy stops lavishing his saliva on his finger and nuzzles against Italy’s chest. “Goo,” he pronounces clearly.
Italy sniffs. “All the time in the world…” Italy buries his head into the boy’s soft swaddling, so as to hide his inevitable tears. “I thought you were gone forever…”
And this time, Prussia doesn’t intervene and just watches the reunion that has been delayed for far, far too long.
“I met you when you were this tall,” and Italy holds his hand about two feet off the ground for effect.
“Mm,” Germany grunts in sleepy recognition. It’s been a long day, and his eyelids are already drooping closed.
“You were really little, so you probably don’t remember,” Italy continues, watching Germany’s eyelashes flutter.
“Mhm.”
“Germany?”
“Yes?” Germany mumbles, the words thick in his mouth.
Italy smiles. It’s clear that whatever he says now won’t register tomorrow morning, or the next when he says it again tomorrow night, or the night after that. Germany is still a few hundred years too young, but that’s alright with Italy. “I’m glad I met you, Germany.”
“Mm,” Germany mutters, and finally gives up and falls asleep.
Italy cuddles closer.
In the morning, Germany will still be there, and that’s all that matters.
Prussia bounces him a little on his hip, a motherly action that is so weirdly out of place on such a warlike nation. A faint smile is on his lips. “What do you think?” He asks guardedly. Prussia is cautious; he has every right to be.
For in Prussia’s arms is the nation that Italy once thought he knew, the nation that Italy loved and will love for years to come. His blue eyes, blond hair, and chubby cheeks are all there—all that’s missing is that ridiculously oversized hat and that billowy navy cloak.
“Holy Roman Empire.” Italy whispers, clutching the leather strap that holds a rifle across his back.
Prussia stiffens. “No,” he corrects sharply, “The German Confederation.”
Italy shakes his head furiously. “France told me he was dead!” He cries, and reaches out his (weary, weary) arms to touch the boy.
It doesn’t matter that Italy has long grown up and left the children’s world of scribbled bunnies on the edges of canvas and impromptu piano recitals in the drawing room. It doesn’t matter that Italy now has the body of a fifteen-year-old and the boy who isn’t the Holy Roman Empire but still is haven’t met in over six decades. Italy still—still, god, after all this time—still aches with everything he has for this boy.
“Italy!” Prussia reprimands curtly, and Italy snaps his hand back, as if burned.
The boy cocks his head up to give Prussia an inquisitive look. Italy’s breath catches in his throat. “Prussia…” Italy pleads.
Prussia shakes his head. “You need to understand,” Prussia’s voice is harsh, “this isn’t the Holy Roman Empire. This is—“
“—The German Confederation, I know,” Italy finishes for him. “But Prussia—“
“You can’t remind him of his past. What we need—what he needs—is a clean slate. A memory devoid of humiliation.”
Italy almost cries. But, instead: “Give him to me,” Italy insists.
Prussia eyes him suspiciously, but with great reluctance hands over his precious bundle. The boy makes no sound of protest; he merely clings to his new holder’s uniform tighter.
Italy can feel the boy’s small, quiet heartbeat through his warm skin. “You’re really miraculous, you know?” He whispers softly. “All these years…”
The boy gurgles happily and begins to suck on his thumb.
Italy laughs. “It’s okay, though,” he tells the boy, “we’ll have all the time in the world to make up for what we lost. I can tell you stories about Austria and Hungary and big brother France and big brother Spain, and…” Italy trails off, voice gone in favor of giving the boy in his arms an adoring look.
The boy stops lavishing his saliva on his finger and nuzzles against Italy’s chest. “Goo,” he pronounces clearly.
Italy sniffs. “All the time in the world…” Italy buries his head into the boy’s soft swaddling, so as to hide his inevitable tears. “I thought you were gone forever…”
And this time, Prussia doesn’t intervene and just watches the reunion that has been delayed for far, far too long.
“I met you when you were this tall,” and Italy holds his hand about two feet off the ground for effect.
“Mm,” Germany grunts in sleepy recognition. It’s been a long day, and his eyelids are already drooping closed.
“You were really little, so you probably don’t remember,” Italy continues, watching Germany’s eyelashes flutter.
“Mhm.”
“Germany?”
“Yes?” Germany mumbles, the words thick in his mouth.
Italy smiles. It’s clear that whatever he says now won’t register tomorrow morning, or the next when he says it again tomorrow night, or the night after that. Germany is still a few hundred years too young, but that’s alright with Italy. “I’m glad I met you, Germany.”
“Mm,” Germany mutters, and finally gives up and falls asleep.
Italy cuddles closer.
In the morning, Germany will still be there, and that’s all that matters.
America is dating England. He’s very VERY nervous about his sexual inexperience. The first night they get down to it, England realises just how inexperienced America is and decides to be very vanilla. America is glad, he’s clumsy, but his passion makes the night seem to him a complete success. And he discovers vanilla sex is just how he rolls, he loves it.
But as time goes by, England is bored beyond his mind every time he has sex with him. And devastated by that realisation. He loves his lad, he truly does, but his preferences lie on the...kinky pervertedadventurous side.
He becomes cranky and evasive, and finally, France gets him to admit what’s wrong with him. America overhears, accidentally.
Happy ending or not, anons.
Bonus for hints at past FrUK, England/Spain, England/Russia…many of England’s numerous affairs that consisted of much more thrilling sex for him…even if his heart didn’t love those partners so much.
But as time goes by, England is bored beyond his mind every time he has sex with him. And devastated by that realisation. He loves his lad, he truly does, but his preferences lie on the...
He becomes cranky and evasive, and finally, France gets him to admit what’s wrong with him. America overhears, accidentally.
Happy ending or not, anons.
Bonus for hints at past FrUK, England/Spain, England/Russia…many of England’s numerous affairs that consisted of much more thrilling sex for him…even if his heart didn’t love those partners so much.
He leans against the wall and stares at nothing. Behind the door next to him, he can still hear Arthur and Francis, Francis’s voice light and teasing, Arthur’s irritated and scowling - yes, Alfred can hear a scowl in England’s voice. Arthur scowls that well.
France is insinuating sly things, about him and Arthur and Kiku and Arthur and Russia and Arthur and goddamn, was the whole world on Arthur’s booty-call list. IS the whole world on Arthur’s booty-call list.
But Alfred knew about this though, kind of sort of in the back of his head, duh it’s in all the history books and all the treaties and this, this is why Alfred tries not to look too closely at the text-books, tries to let all the implications and all the statements and all the innuendo slide over his head and if that means everyone thinks he’s a moron with a skull so empty that there’s a whistling sound when the wind blows in one ear and out the other, well, so be it.
But he can’t very well ignore this now.
Wait, of course he can. He just has to not think about it. He just has to not-think about it very very hard.
***
England’s very good at diplomacy and tact and all the things that involve him using his mouth to get things he wants. Case in point: the subtle way he goes about hinting about maybe the two of them should see other people. Alfred admires that. If he wasn’t hypersensitive, waiting and watching from somewhere behind his eyes, peering at the world, at England, from a safe little space, he may not even have realized that’s what England means, might have thought the whole conversation really was about treaties and alliances and maintaining diplomatic relations with other countries.
But he knows and he says yes right away, cheerful, even complimenting England on his being so friendly - and no, not a trace of doublespeak in the compliment, not a bit of innuendo, just good ol Alfred sunny and friendly and smiling - because it’s better to have it over and done with than have Arthur resort to telling the truth, have to hear: “Because you are clumsy and inept in bed, because you don’t know how to please me, because you were too stupid and selfish to even notice how little I was enjoying myself, because now we don’t even have sex, because now you don’t even want to try,” in that beautiful crisp English accent that he’d loved, the words and more that he had overheard that day, heard again and again and again in his dreams.
He’s been waiting for this, really. Ever since he stopped being able to get it up for England, unable to focus on the nice feelings and the heat and the skin that had used to enrapture him, only able to think of that heat and skin shared with others, ever since he had it shoved in his face that he’d been right to worry (he’d been right, he had known, he had thought about the gap between him and England, the years and the Atlantic and the histories, and he should have known to go with his first instincts to run away, to back away, to not take the risk).
Ever since then he’s been waiting for England to turn around and walk away, the pattern from the early years but he’s older this time and he knows better than to cling to England’s shirt (he’d probably tear it) and beg for things that he couldn’t have, things England couldn’t give him, things he couldn’t give England.
So he says yes and England nods and that’s it, that’s the end of this - something he’d waited two hundred years (England on his knees and crying, America on his feet and the rain, the rain that’s part of America as the land is, England cries tears and America cries rain, that day) - four hundred (he’s always loved England since he first saw him, tiny him and tall England and now it’s all turned around and maybe that’s what’s wrong, England smaller than him and he shouldn’t be, Alfred still stuck as the little child in the grass when he’s supposed to be adult, supposed to be all grown up) - a thousand years for, (dreaming dreams of emerald green and sea-salt breeze before he knew how to wake up) - and he curls up and sleeps after drinking enough bourbon to kill the dreams.
***
France is insinuating sly things, about him and Arthur and Kiku and Arthur and Russia and Arthur and goddamn, was the whole world on Arthur’s booty-call list. IS the whole world on Arthur’s booty-call list.
But Alfred knew about this though, kind of sort of in the back of his head, duh it’s in all the history books and all the treaties and this, this is why Alfred tries not to look too closely at the text-books, tries to let all the implications and all the statements and all the innuendo slide over his head and if that means everyone thinks he’s a moron with a skull so empty that there’s a whistling sound when the wind blows in one ear and out the other, well, so be it.
But he can’t very well ignore this now.
Wait, of course he can. He just has to not think about it. He just has to not-think about it very very hard.
***
England’s very good at diplomacy and tact and all the things that involve him using his mouth to get things he wants. Case in point: the subtle way he goes about hinting about maybe the two of them should see other people. Alfred admires that. If he wasn’t hypersensitive, waiting and watching from somewhere behind his eyes, peering at the world, at England, from a safe little space, he may not even have realized that’s what England means, might have thought the whole conversation really was about treaties and alliances and maintaining diplomatic relations with other countries.
But he knows and he says yes right away, cheerful, even complimenting England on his being so friendly - and no, not a trace of doublespeak in the compliment, not a bit of innuendo, just good ol Alfred sunny and friendly and smiling - because it’s better to have it over and done with than have Arthur resort to telling the truth, have to hear: “Because you are clumsy and inept in bed, because you don’t know how to please me, because you were too stupid and selfish to even notice how little I was enjoying myself, because now we don’t even have sex, because now you don’t even want to try,” in that beautiful crisp English accent that he’d loved, the words and more that he had overheard that day, heard again and again and again in his dreams.
He’s been waiting for this, really. Ever since he stopped being able to get it up for England, unable to focus on the nice feelings and the heat and the skin that had used to enrapture him, only able to think of that heat and skin shared with others, ever since he had it shoved in his face that he’d been right to worry (he’d been right, he had known, he had thought about the gap between him and England, the years and the Atlantic and the histories, and he should have known to go with his first instincts to run away, to back away, to not take the risk).
Ever since then he’s been waiting for England to turn around and walk away, the pattern from the early years but he’s older this time and he knows better than to cling to England’s shirt (he’d probably tear it) and beg for things that he couldn’t have, things England couldn’t give him, things he couldn’t give England.
So he says yes and England nods and that’s it, that’s the end of this - something he’d waited two hundred years (England on his knees and crying, America on his feet and the rain, the rain that’s part of America as the land is, England cries tears and America cries rain, that day) - four hundred (he’s always loved England since he first saw him, tiny him and tall England and now it’s all turned around and maybe that’s what’s wrong, England smaller than him and he shouldn’t be, Alfred still stuck as the little child in the grass when he’s supposed to be adult, supposed to be all grown up) - a thousand years for, (dreaming dreams of emerald green and sea-salt breeze before he knew how to wake up) - and he curls up and sleeps after drinking enough bourbon to kill the dreams.
***
England can cook. He just gets so nervous and becomes too meticulous with everything he tries to cook that it ends up bad.
Make something up, anons.
Make something up, anons.
Austria/Spain (in that order), Pride and Prejudice Style
(Anonymous) 2010-09-16 02:51 pm (UTC)(link)The title says it all, Austria and Spain are two very different types of character and I just want to see them fall in love Pride and Prejudice style.
No need to follow that story, just the general feel and character prejudice, for example Austria initially finding Spain completely too wild, and Spain thinks that Austria is such an uptight prick.
And let it end happily, pretty please (I know that's not historically accurate with all the breakup in the end, but maybe something can be work out with extending the fic across the ages till modern era)?
No need to follow that story, just the general feel and character prejudice, for example Austria initially finding Spain completely too wild, and Spain thinks that Austria is such an uptight prick.
And let it end happily, pretty please (I know that's not historically accurate with all the breakup in the end, but maybe something can be work out with extending the fic across the ages till modern era)?
Re: Austria/Spain (in that order), Pride and Prejudice Style
(Anonymous) 2010-09-16 04:58 pm (UTC)(link)fffffffffffff seconded!! (oh my, Austria!Mr Darcy :DDDD)
America introduced England to McDonald's when it first opened, and when England grumbled about not having any fish in the menu, America suggested a fish burger and that was how McFish Fillet came about. Later on more and more of England's preference appear in McD's menu (tea, English McMuffin, etc.). England did not know that America had a hand in making McD's menu more to his taste.
Bonus: Someone else realises it and points it out to England.
Bonus: Someone else realises it and points it out to England.
England is slowly falling in love with France.
At first, he thinks it's just lust (Cause, well.. France is hot), but as time passes, he's starting to get nervous and embarrassed and he forgets how to speak when he's around France and he doesn't know what to do about it anymore. And he's basically falling really HARD for Francis.
He knows it's a bad idea, he tries to stay away from Francis, but he just can't. He gets jealous when Francis is being the flirt he is around other nations, he gets mad and tries to calm himself down. And he's just a man in love, what can he do?
Whether he confesses to Francis or not and whether Francis feels the same is for you to decide.
At first, he thinks it's just lust (Cause, well.. France is hot), but as time passes, he's starting to get nervous and embarrassed and he forgets how to speak when he's around France and he doesn't know what to do about it anymore. And he's basically falling really HARD for Francis.
He knows it's a bad idea, he tries to stay away from Francis, but he just can't. He gets jealous when Francis is being the flirt he is around other nations, he gets mad and tries to calm himself down. And he's just a man in love, what can he do?
Whether he confesses to Francis or not and whether Francis feels the same is for you to decide.
cute :D want.
Have no preference for top or bottom. I just want to see these two guys geeking out over some type of technology which leads to some sexy times. Consensual, nothing really hardcore but light bondage(maybe with computer wires?) would be a welcoming plus.
Bonus: Use of bondage but make it fluffy.
Bonus: Use of bondage but make it fluffy.
This pairing...SECONDED....
Anon has seen this implied in some fics but never really examined as a whole.
Gender equality is something very recent (and still in-progress), for most of history -- particuarly once Christianity and its different branches became the dominant religion -- women have had less rights than men in many ways.
Anon can't help but think that this must have applied to female nations too and would like to read a fic about the way they coped with that. Things like maybe a ruler who refused to let them fight and insisted they stay feminine and out of 'mens work', prejudice from male nations and men in general, crossdressing to be taken seriously in political matters or other tactics to get round the barrier, their reactions to the suffragettes and womens rights movements (and involvement) etc.
Female nation(s) involved can be canon or a genderswitched nations. Personal prefs would be Hungary, Belarus, fem!UK, fem!France or maybe even mama!Greece and Egypt if you want to examine Ancient Historical attitudes about women for this.
Gender equality is something very recent (and still in-progress), for most of history -- particuarly once Christianity and its different branches became the dominant religion -- women have had less rights than men in many ways.
Anon can't help but think that this must have applied to female nations too and would like to read a fic about the way they coped with that. Things like maybe a ruler who refused to let them fight and insisted they stay feminine and out of 'mens work', prejudice from male nations and men in general, crossdressing to be taken seriously in political matters or other tactics to get round the barrier, their reactions to the suffragettes and womens rights movements (and involvement) etc.
Female nation(s) involved can be canon or a genderswitched nations. Personal prefs would be Hungary, Belarus, fem!UK, fem!France or maybe even mama!Greece and Egypt if you want to examine Ancient Historical attitudes about women for this.
England didn’t want to do that to him. George III, for all his faults, for all the heavy burdens of his no-good predecessors, was not a bad man. Most of her monarchs were not Bad Men, if only because she was old enough to have some wisdom accorded to time.
He was a kinder man than the previous Georges. He was less prey to veniality and vice, impulse and wrath. But softness perhaps was not what was best for a monarch, while iron rigidity only shattered them.
She traced the lace of her gown as she listened listlessly to the arguments of the Cabinet. They couldn’t see her, thanks to a judicious invisibility spell and their own stubborn blindness. A woman should not be in these chambers and thus, they did not see her. She was no maid, not with the very fine gown she wore (cream colored silk and Brussels lace) and the light dusting of pale powder upon her sandy hair.
England shook out the embroidery she was working on to let her mind wander. She traced her still coarse fingertips across the fine silk webbing making out cornflowers and pink roses.
Ah, they were coming to an accord of sorts. But half the men had stormy expressions. Good. They needed a good kick to the arse, the lot of them. Half being appeased? That was a better result than imaginable.
George III remained in his chair, looking blankly out a window. He looked too old, suddenly. The years had caught up to him in a rush, fat piling on upon his unfortunately rounded face. England got to her feet and made her silent way over, through the men filing out after making their respects to their monarch.
She let the spell slip away and watched him jump as she suddenly appeared before him.
“Were you here all this time?” he asked, hand going to his heart.
She shook her head. “I was passing by before realizing you were here.”
“They will think you are my mistress,” he sighed.
“Only the stupider ones,” she retorted. “They know what I am. They know what I am capable of.” Her voice grew steely at the end of her words, sharp and tense as a taut bowstring.
“It is war then,” George III said needlessly.
“And I am going there,” she replied too calmly.
He gave her a sharp look. “No. You know I cannot allow that-”
“You let me fight in the Seven Years’ War,” she said in a low voice. “I heard no complaints from you then.”
“That was different-” he began.
“Your grandfather had no issue with my sex. Neither did his father.”
“They cared little of this country,” George III replied far too reasonably. “They were not born on this soil.”
“No, they were not. Not like you.”
He looked at her. “You are a woman, England,” he said. “You are the fairer sex. You are not made for the likes of war. Not at all. I do not know what madness would send you to the battlefield, to face that terror and torment-”
She had had enough of this. Kindness meant little for her now. She didn’t scream; she didn’t rip apart the delicate material still in her hands. England took a deep breath.
“I have seen battlefields since the Conqueror’s time, George,” she said softly. “I was there when the Armada was defeated when your many great grandmother was precarious on her throne.” Her lip curled upward in a snarl. “Kindly do not forget that I am no mere human, particularly no human woman.”
He lifted his hand then, a terrible anger lighting up his eyes.
“You let that hand fly, George,” she warned. “And… I will never darken your door again.” She met his eyes quite squarely, her heart pounding in her chest despite her calm, cold demeanor. “I am not one of your daughters to sequester away from the world.”
“You will not go with my blessing, England,” he said at last. “Should you leave this Isle.”
She smiled but that sort of smile did not rouse matching amusement or kindness. “Do I look like I want it?” And she took no delight in the pain that sparked across his eyes.
He was a kinder man than the previous Georges. He was less prey to veniality and vice, impulse and wrath. But softness perhaps was not what was best for a monarch, while iron rigidity only shattered them.
She traced the lace of her gown as she listened listlessly to the arguments of the Cabinet. They couldn’t see her, thanks to a judicious invisibility spell and their own stubborn blindness. A woman should not be in these chambers and thus, they did not see her. She was no maid, not with the very fine gown she wore (cream colored silk and Brussels lace) and the light dusting of pale powder upon her sandy hair.
England shook out the embroidery she was working on to let her mind wander. She traced her still coarse fingertips across the fine silk webbing making out cornflowers and pink roses.
Ah, they were coming to an accord of sorts. But half the men had stormy expressions. Good. They needed a good kick to the arse, the lot of them. Half being appeased? That was a better result than imaginable.
George III remained in his chair, looking blankly out a window. He looked too old, suddenly. The years had caught up to him in a rush, fat piling on upon his unfortunately rounded face. England got to her feet and made her silent way over, through the men filing out after making their respects to their monarch.
She let the spell slip away and watched him jump as she suddenly appeared before him.
“Were you here all this time?” he asked, hand going to his heart.
She shook her head. “I was passing by before realizing you were here.”
“They will think you are my mistress,” he sighed.
“Only the stupider ones,” she retorted. “They know what I am. They know what I am capable of.” Her voice grew steely at the end of her words, sharp and tense as a taut bowstring.
“It is war then,” George III said needlessly.
“And I am going there,” she replied too calmly.
He gave her a sharp look. “No. You know I cannot allow that-”
“You let me fight in the Seven Years’ War,” she said in a low voice. “I heard no complaints from you then.”
“That was different-” he began.
“Your grandfather had no issue with my sex. Neither did his father.”
“They cared little of this country,” George III replied far too reasonably. “They were not born on this soil.”
“No, they were not. Not like you.”
He looked at her. “You are a woman, England,” he said. “You are the fairer sex. You are not made for the likes of war. Not at all. I do not know what madness would send you to the battlefield, to face that terror and torment-”
She had had enough of this. Kindness meant little for her now. She didn’t scream; she didn’t rip apart the delicate material still in her hands. England took a deep breath.
“I have seen battlefields since the Conqueror’s time, George,” she said softly. “I was there when the Armada was defeated when your many great grandmother was precarious on her throne.” Her lip curled upward in a snarl. “Kindly do not forget that I am no mere human, particularly no human woman.”
He lifted his hand then, a terrible anger lighting up his eyes.
“You let that hand fly, George,” she warned. “And… I will never darken your door again.” She met his eyes quite squarely, her heart pounding in her chest despite her calm, cold demeanor. “I am not one of your daughters to sequester away from the world.”
“You will not go with my blessing, England,” he said at last. “Should you leave this Isle.”
She smiled but that sort of smile did not rouse matching amusement or kindness. “Do I look like I want it?” And she took no delight in the pain that sparked across his eyes.
Just what the prompt says. Established relationship.
Super Mega Bonus
America(don't care what you name her) gets emotional and has a sudden irrational fear that Ivan is going to break up with her(starts to cry and begging him not to leave her). A confused Ivan stops everything to comfort and reassure her he's not going anywhere.
Bonus
After comforting her things pick up where they left off only slower and more loving...she cums a 2nd time.
Super Mega Bonus
America(don't care what you name her) gets emotional and has a sudden irrational fear that Ivan is going to break up with her(starts to cry and begging him not to leave her). A confused Ivan stops everything to comfort and reassure her he's not going anywhere.
Bonus
After comforting her things pick up where they left off only slower and more loving...she cums a 2nd time.
This is so awesome!
Especially the whole "NOT a virgin" thing!
*squeals*
I second since my talents would not do this justice!
Especially the whole "NOT a virgin" thing!
*squeals*
I second since my talents would not do this justice!
This isn't exactly a "Girl's night out" request. But I would love to see the female characters (only the canon ones, please) talking about their sex lives.
Do you have something in mind? Because I immediately thought of a Monologues of the Vagina format.
The reason that the Italians we're actually better, in some cases, than the Germans during the invasion of Russia, where even the Moscow radio was paying attention as to where there were Italian troops were most of the time, has been bugging Germany for a while now.
It isn't until he gets into a very uncharacteristic verbal fight with Russia that he finds out he's not the only one that thinks Veneziano's sudden competence was suspicious.
However, the confrontation with Veneziano wasn't quite what they expected.
How can someone so frivolous shape up so completely just because 'they're cold and want to go home'?
Bonus) Mentions on how Mediterranean Nations are affected oddly by the weather.
Bonus 2)France swears that Arthur’s weather feels like cabin fever. XD
It isn't until he gets into a very uncharacteristic verbal fight with Russia that he finds out he's not the only one that thinks Veneziano's sudden competence was suspicious.
However, the confrontation with Veneziano wasn't quite what they expected.
How can someone so frivolous shape up so completely just because 'they're cold and want to go home'?
Bonus) Mentions on how Mediterranean Nations are affected oddly by the weather.
Bonus 2)France swears that Arthur’s weather feels like cabin fever. XD
Uummm...OK so I meant to put change my title to 'I HATE Being Cold', but forgot.
Anon would like to see some UKUS loving, in that order. America has a Daddy fetish and would like to act like a naive little boy and wants "Daddy" to make him feel better. No shota, please! It's a fetish/kink, which means it didn't happen when America was a kid.
Love from Anon if writer makes England find this out in an embarrassing situation for America and takes advantage.
Double love if the word "Daddy" is actually used~ "Big Brother" is good too, but "Daddy" mostly.
:D Thanks Writer!Anon in advance!
Love from Anon if writer makes England find this out in an embarrassing situation for America and takes advantage.
Double love if the word "Daddy" is actually used~ "Big Brother" is good too, but "Daddy" mostly.
:D Thanks Writer!Anon in advance!
This prompt is just too good to resist. Seconding for now, but maybe, maybe, could become a filler.
Why so awesome anon~?
Why so awesome anon~?
So, basically I want France to use his french charm to seduce Austria by every trick in the book.
Anon would like to see France to focus on describing Austrias beauty, making lots of compliments and slowly ensnaring him. Austria is totally falling for it. Sexy times ensues, with France taking a long time in foreplay, making Austria feel like a "queen".
Everything else is up to you, can be AU or not, with historical background or not.
Anon would prefer human names, but if you're not cool with it, country names are ok too.
Bonus - The sex is very fluffy at first, but in the end it's very hot and sexy.
Anon would like to see France to focus on describing Austrias beauty, making lots of compliments and slowly ensnaring him. Austria is totally falling for it. Sexy times ensues, with France taking a long time in foreplay, making Austria feel like a "queen".
Everything else is up to you, can be AU or not, with historical background or not.
Anon would prefer human names, but if you're not cool with it, country names are ok too.
Bonus - The sex is very fluffy at first, but in the end it's very hot and sexy.
Oh God yes. Seconding with all my heart.
Anon would like to see some early morning sexytimes between these two. Maybe one of them wants to surprise the other or perhaps they've already done a few rounds before falling asleep and are still horny.
Bonus: Japan is the one who initiates.
Bonus: Japan is the one who initiates.
If this anon doesn't do this:
SECOND LIKE A BURNING!
SECOND LIKE A BURNING!
UK/US (dominate England is unf<3) and Germany/Italy
So basically England and Germany somehow getting into an argument about which of their boyfriends are better/cuter/better in bed/ect. They go as far as to set up pretend double dates to show off their significant other to prove to each other that their uke is indeed better. They go as far as to asking other nations and trying to get more "on their side".
Italy and America are clueless the entire time this is going on and just think everyone is staring to get along more; which is great because the two end up paling around during this whole ordeal.
Bonus: at least one nation no one would expect siding with one or the other uke when asked.
Bonus 2: During a summit England and Germany discover their hotel rooms are right next to each other and a sexing "who's uke lasts longer in bed" contest ensues. ([s]hotel walls are so thin...[/s])
Bonus 3: in the middle of one of their arguments some words are said and they both end up on the topic of America/Italy (or whatever order) and both get hot and bothered by it.
How this little "war" of theirs ends is up to the author!anon. c:
So basically England and Germany somehow getting into an argument about which of their boyfriends are better/cuter/better in bed/ect. They go as far as to set up pretend double dates to show off their significant other to prove to each other that their uke is indeed better. They go as far as to asking other nations and trying to get more "on their side".
Italy and America are clueless the entire time this is going on and just think everyone is staring to get along more; which is great because the two end up paling around during this whole ordeal.
Bonus: at least one nation no one would expect siding with one or the other uke when asked.
Bonus 2: During a summit England and Germany discover their hotel rooms are right next to each other and a sexing "who's uke lasts longer in bed" contest ensues. ([s]hotel walls are so thin...[/s])
Bonus 3: in the middle of one of their arguments some words are said and they both end up on the topic of America/Italy (or whatever order) and both get hot and bothered by it.
How this little "war" of theirs ends is up to the author!anon. c:
(screened comment)
(screened comment)
After a one night stand Switzerland just buckles under the guilt/self-hatred and tries to push Liechtenstein away.
I have to say SwissLili is my guilty pairing, and I can see Switz doing this. If I ever have the time, I will fill it but it may be a long while damn university
YESYES I KNOW IT'S NOT VERY CIVIL BUTTT
I don't see much of this around. And I love a good pregnant guy.
I ask for please~
-Romano is preggoz
-Spain somehow knocks him up XDD
-Romano wants to get the thing out but learns to love it. (aww)
-Spain is too excited and pisses Romano off
BONUS TIME:
-Roma has crazy middle of the night cravings and makes Spain make him food
-Every time the baby kicks Roma gets angry (And Spain tries to help the poor thing ;w; )
-People start to notice.
I don't see much of this around. And I love a good pregnant guy.
I ask for please~
-Romano is preggoz
-Spain somehow knocks him up XDD
-Romano wants to get the thing out but learns to love it. (aww)
-Spain is too excited and pisses Romano off
BONUS TIME:
-Roma has crazy middle of the night cravings and makes Spain make him food
-Every time the baby kicks Roma gets angry (And Spain tries to help the poor thing ;w; )
-People start to notice.
http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/17465.html?thread=60056889#t60056889
France/England Sitting on his lap during a world conference
(Anonymous) 2010-09-16 08:57 pm (UTC)(link)BASICALLY what the title says, I dont care how its done. Just do it. I want Iggy sitting on France's lap during a meeting :D
Bonus: America getting just a little bit jealous.
Bonus: America getting just a little bit jealous.
Re: France/England Sitting on his lap during a world conference
(Anonymous) 2010-09-24 06:21 pm (UTC)(link)Oh, yes, everything, including the bonus. Fantastic, your are ^^
Russia's constant attempts to make nations become one with him pay off and he creates his own harem. Can be an alt. history where Communism spread a lot further or a crack fic or some other plot set in recent times...anything goes.
Bonus: It's not just the usual suspects who become one with Russia. Nations in Western Europe such as England, France and Germany are made part of the harem too
Bonus: America and Belarus team up to try and put a stop to this because America is appalledthat Russia took away England just on principle and Belarus is insanely jealous of her brother's...collection
Bonus: Russia dresses the nations in his harem in the sorts of outfits that you'd expect to see in a harem...i.e. revealing and generally NSFW
I know this sounds like a rapetruck!Russia request, but I'm thinking more along the lines of creepy-cute!Russia who's delighted with all his newtoys lovers but at the same time won't hesitate to punish those who protest/try to escape. Though if (some of) the nations want to be there, that's also fine.
Also, smut is not required but would be delicious
Bonus: It's not just the usual suspects who become one with Russia. Nations in Western Europe such as England, France and Germany are made part of the harem too
Bonus: America and Belarus team up to try and put a stop to this because America is appalled
Bonus: Russia dresses the nations in his harem in the sorts of outfits that you'd expect to see in a harem...i.e. revealing and generally NSFW
I know this sounds like a rapetruck!Russia request, but I'm thinking more along the lines of creepy-cute!Russia who's delighted with all his new
Also, smut is not required but would be delicious
Inspired by this very moving song http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A9MRbek0JXk
Angst, yes angst so much it will choke you is what I want. Smut not required. If you manage, I will love you forever. NO non-con. Yeah, that is not so easy. :/
Angst, yes angst so much it will choke you is what I want. Smut not required. If you manage, I will love you forever. NO non-con. Yeah, that is not so easy. :/
America goes in front of the world during a conferance and burns her bra. If you want to pair her with anyone OP fine with anyone.
The feminist in this anon wants to see this!
Hungary cries tears of shame whilst she masturbates furiously to non-con porn. Any kind of non-con is fine, but male -> female is preferred for maximum guilt.
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