hetalia_kink | Hetalia Kink meme part 14 -- CLOSED

Blame google then my friend because the spanish, at least, should be: "Señorita, mi pequeño tomate, ¡Te quiero!"

;)

That was amazing, I loved it! And I love your writing style!
Heh, Prussia still has that certain license...

That last line increased the awesome over nine thousandXDXDXD

ARGH GOOGLE. D8

Thanks, though!! (Scurries to fix in own copy)

http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/17465.html?thread=56024889#t56024889

Ever since I saw these Titanic strips from an artist on pixiv I have been secretly waiting for someone to write something like this.

I can't find this hot. I just can't.
It is way too adorable to be hot.
Poor Russia~
I can't wait untill the next chapter
x3

Once comment space fills up for 14, you won't be able to post here and will have to move to past-part fills. I think the reason someone was pushing for 13 to stay in 13 until it was full was to prevent people posting in odd places when there was no need, but if a part is full it's full (15 is open now, anyways).
I'm pretty sure it'd be okay if you start posting in the past-part fills and use the remaining comment space here to post a link to where the story will be continued. I know I'd be upset if you had troubles posting this story or I missed what comes next. :)
I hope I helped...

A Titanic AU! And with genderbend too! I saw that picture on pixiv and was wishing for one too, so thank you~

I thought I'd just point out that Antonio should be introduced as Antonio Fernandez, not Antonio Carriedo. Spanish naming customs would dictate that Carriedo would be the mother's surname, while Fernandez would be the father's surname. And as it stands, it would be a little awkward to introduce oneself with their mother's surname.

I hoped this would get continued.^^

I like how you incorporated the "You used to be so big" stuff int this, author!anon, it's a nice touch to have a bit of Hetalia anon even in AU story.

Great stuff. :D

lol.

oh, that was amazing, and there's certainly a strange sort of weird fate thing business going on around here if in the millions of people in the world, ita's son and england's daughter marry off.

this prompt somehow gets all good fics, which is really refreshing, i have to admit.

really, really great fill. i feel for poor Milly quite a lot (and i'm sure Eng will NOT have problems with the cake. loss of tasting buds and all that stuff).

this anon really liked it :D thank you for sharing!

and your italy was ok, you should write him more often ;)

this was all kinds of adorable and slightly sad ~~and you fed my England/Italy muse a lot~~.

And he called him Remo, awww! Well, sort-of-awww. And yes, it would be really Italy to hang around despite it all. And Milly is fantastic <3 REVENGE IS A PLATE BEST SERVED COLD. AND COMPLETELY BURNT.

Casting the Players
The office was decidedly pleasant, Arthur concluded, taking a quick, sweeping glance at the close crammed desks until his eyes fell on a familiar mess of blonde hair. Alfred was sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Elliot’s desk, allowing himself to be used as a child’s test subject. A little girl was standing on her knees next to him, tugging at the short blonde hair and braiding it to the best of her ability. Despite the short time frame, he already had four, bright pink ribbons in his hair, including one around Nantucket. The boys were nowhere to be seen at the time, so Arthur sat himself across from Alfred, quietly looking over Christie. She looked healthy enough, if not a tad pale. Dark brown hair fell straight to her mid-back, bangs framing her face in a rather doll-like manner. Hazel eyes were focused on Alfred’s hair, while tiny fingers tugged and twined the strands, tying off each new mini-braid with a thin red rubber band and topping the band with a pink ribbon. She didn’t look like she was too talkative, though she did smile and giggle every few seconds as Alfred happily chatted away; Elliot was quietly watching the scene, but didn’t look too keen on attempting to steer Alfred back to his main objective, which was supposed to be getting the girl to talk.

A few minutes longer of watching and four more ribbons later, Arthur took the matter into his own hands, “…Alfred, may I see your phone?”

“Hmm? Oh, sure.” The American idly tossed his cell towards the Brit, barely wincing when Christie tugged a bit harder than necessary on his hair. He was relatively still until he heard the unmistakable shutter of his phone taking a picture and promptly turned bright red, “Arthur—who are you sending that to?!”

“Your brother. Matthew should love this. Perhaps Francis should see it as well. He always rather liked decorating you two in ribbon and lace.” Arthur easily held the phone out of the American’s immediate reach; Alfred wouldn’t dare pounce with a child so close to him. True enough, the younger blonde sent him a flustered glare and crossed his arms childishly.

“Family?” Olivia inquired from her desk, not looking up from whatever she was typing. All the same she was smiling and trying to hide it.

“Yeah. Brother…s.” Alfred coughed, shooting Arthur a quick glare-the Brit promptly smirked- as he almost called Francis ‘dad’ again, “Francis is older than us; me and Mattie are twins, though!”

“Matthew and I.” Arthur corrected, almost in an automated way.

Christie finally started paying attention and looked up curiously from her braiding. She looked genuinely interested and blinked bright hazel eyes at the American, giving his hair insistent tugs until he turned his attention to her, “You have a twin, too?”

“Yep! I’m the older one!”

“We don’t know that.”

“Dude, I’m so older.” Alfred stuck his tongue out at Arthur as he fished his wallet out of his jacket, flipping it open to a photo of Matt and himself, “There he is.”

From the way Alfred had flipped the wallet, Arthur caught a brief glance of the picture; it was from their last “family trip” where they’d "kindly" invaded Arthur’s house for three weeks. Alfred had happily taken over his guest room and couch, while Matt had resigned himself to a hotel with Francis so Arthur wouldn’t go into drinking frenzy. During the final week, they’d taken their routine tour of the city and Francis had convinced them to get a picture in front Big Ben…Arthur had initially been annoyed at the Frenchman but had eventually conceded, very grudgingly and after copious compensation drinks, that it had been a fun day and still had the picture framed by his bed…right next to an old painting of a tiny Alfred in his white night gown.

Arthur shook his head a few times, trying to push the nostalgia back into its corner and turned his attention back on Christie and Alfred. The little girl was calmly sitting next to Alfred, her back pressed against the desk, flipping through his wallet and questioning everyone in the pictures. Alfred was animatedly telling her the most embarrassing stories he could think of, which wasn’t hard given the pictures. Arthur was going to strike up conversation with Elliot-who was getting a rundown from Munch and Fin on the boys- when he heard his name mentioned and was immediately paying attention to Alfred again.

“—and Francis were going at each other, middle of the restaurant, while me and Matt were still chilling out with our dessert and Arthur-he really hates Francis’ cooking, even though I think he’s over compensating and secretly loves it- starts shooting off insults like no tomorrow. Matt happened to still have his camera from when we went to the Eiffel Tower and I totally snagged it and managed to get Arthur and Francis covered in cream and crumbs!”

Arthur flustered and glared darkly; he heard Olivia cough to cover a chuckle and Christie looked genuinely pleased by the story and begrudgingly calmed himself. This is for the case, this is for the case, he told himself, repetitively, glowering when Alfred turned his attention on him.

“Do you remember what we were eating? I just remember it being spritzed in rum sauce.” He gave a shameless grin.

“Sponge cake. Matthew insisted on it, recall?” Arthur mumbled and Alfred nodded after a moment of thinking.

“Is Matthew here?” Christie asked curiously, still flipping through the wallet. Arthur figured she’d managed to find more of the brothers’ pictures, if not Alfred’s children.

“Nah. He lives up in Vancouver. I think he’s staying in Nova Scotia for a few weeks.” At the blank, confused look he was getting, Alfred grinned and gave the girl a small pat on the head, “Canada. He lives in Canada. Likes to move around up there and stay with friends every couple of months.”

“But…he’s your brother, isn’t he?” Christie looked confused and Arthur couldn’t really blame her, “Siblings stay together don’t they?”

“We see each other every few weekends.” Alfred admitted with a smile that said he was slowly calming down from his four cups of coffee, “But…me and Mattie haven’t lived with each other in a long time. Our…parents got a divorce.” Arthur cut off from his correction and barely refrained a dark glare at the brief look the American shot him, “Mattie stayed with mom…I stayed with dad. It…wasn’t horrible I guess.”

Christie nodded, looking down at the wallet again, “…I wish we had gone with mommy. Andy wouldn’t be mad all the time if we had. He never liked daddy.” She fiddled with the wallet a few locks of hair finding their way into her mouth.

“Is your mom still around here? We could always arrange for you to go visit her. I’m sure she’d want to see all three of you.” Olivia offered from her desk, finally ceasing the typing.

Christie shifted a bit; she’d set the wallet down and was tugging and twisting the ends of her hair around her fingers with her right hand. Her left hand was holding the strands in her mouth as she continued to chew on them nervously. She started to answer, or she had at least taken her hair from her mouth, only to give a startled jump when voices became apparent from down the hall. Voices she seemed to recognize as her eyes lit up happily and she stood and ran towards them. She was immediately attached to a boy just a few centimeters taller than her, with similar dark hair that was kept cut just below his jaw; they hugged tightly and were clasping each others’ hands as soon as they stopped. The boy’s hand was fisted around the legging of a pair of black jeans and Arthur finally resigned to the fact it was his turn and stood, dusting his slacks down as he hoisted Alfred upright.

Andrew was a good deal lighter than his younger siblings skin wise; where the twins had a healthy tan, he was almost sickly pale and was sporting short, rusty auburn hair that was kept in a rather unruly manner. Despite the pallid skin, he was toned in sleek, lean muscle that was evident through the tight tank top. He would have been attractive in the ‘bad boy’ act if it weren’t for the number of dark bruises lining down his shoulders to his elbows. His elbows and down were covered in various wristbands; in between the accessories, more bruises were obvious. A bandana-black with neon green clovers and skulls, to which Arthur heard Alfred mutter ‘Boondock Saints’ and jabbed him sharply in the side- was wrapped around his neck. He didn’t look at all phased by the precinct setting; though he did look bothered by the cops, and put a calm hand on the back of his sister’s head in an acknowledging, albeit protective, gesture. He glanced over the semi-circular line up of cops and eventually settled his eyes on the two blondes. He looked over Alfred for a few seconds, in an assessing manner, before carefully prying his brother’s hand from his jeans. Ryan made a small whine of displeasure and Andy knelt, exchanging a few short, quiet words with them. Christie lit up, despite her brothers’ distrust and she was soon tugging her twin towards Alfred.

Andy stood, straightening his posture into a rather slack, nonchalant pose, his hands resting loosely in his pockets, “A’right, who’s next then? Another shrink?”

Elliot gave Arthur a quick side glance; the Brit returned it with a silent promise to get what information he could and received a slow nod. He turned a civilly cheerful smile on the teen, “Not quite, lad. The detectives were thinking you could do with a fresh breather; the Freud squad is hardly ever pleasant to deal with and I need a bit of a breather m’self.”

Andy gave a suspicious look but nodded slowly; he shot a deathly warning glare at Alfred and Arthur actually laughed, clapping the confused American on the shoulder as he passed, “I wouldn’t worry about this one. Jones can be a bit of a prat, but he’s harmless. …Though if he does his ‘hero’ impression again, I’m going to lock him out of his own bloody apartment.” Arthur warned, catching the gleam that said the speech was coming. Alfred took heed to the warning and merely grinned, easily picking the twins up and sitting them on his shoulders; they seemed absolutely delighted, though Ryan gave a small squeak of terror before calming down and joining his sister in delighted giggles as they were carried around the office.

Arthur turned the friendly look back on Andy and made an idle, polite gesture for him to lead. While the teen still seemed suspicious, he obliged and the two fell into a surprisingly easy pace. As soon as they were out of ear shot, Alfred turned back around to Elliot’s desk, “So, I’d like to take a moment to say, if Arthur starts dressing like that again I might cry.”

“Oh? Mr. Kirkland used to be a scene kid?” Elliot was throwing his jacket on as Olivia retrieved a stack of papers from the printer.

“Punk scene; I swear if he breaks out the Sex Pistols or The Damned….”

“Ah, 1976. The first real coverage of Sex Pistols.” Munch almost sounded reminiscent, “Well, if dear England does don the British grunge years-.”

“Cute, Munch, but we’re not turning the office into a concert hall.” Elliot tossed a clipped pack of papers towards the man to cut him off as he and Olivia passed, “You and Fin have friends; Olivia and I are going for primary investigation.”

“Alfred, if you’d find Doctor Huang and talk to him with the kids until your partner gets back, that’d be great.” Olivia gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder as she passed. It was an apology more than anything, as Alfred had started pouting as he realized he was being left out of the street work. All the same he nodded, and smiled up at the twins still situated on his shoulders. Ryan looked a bit nervous about going back to the doctor and Christie looked confused.

“Come on, I bet Huang has some cookies hiding somewhere. Shrinks always do.” The two perked up a bit and Alfred started singing in his head; he’d yell at Arthur later for getting “Life’s a Jigsaw” stuck in his head.

Authoranon checking back in o/! Cliffie update is cliffie, but there shall be more in a few days! My place of employment is being kind and giving me my two days back-to-back this week! ...Though I can't recall which days. I think it's Wednesday and Thursday? ...Hm. Oh well!

Uhm...not much to say, more development. I think that's what I always liked about SVU was the way they balanced the light and the family friendly with the dark, twisted undertone, especially in the earlier seasons. ~~[episode one, Olivia and Elliot's look exchange over the cabbie's missing 'cigar'. Best ever.]~~ But this was also a good place to cut off and provide future warnings:

Coming chapters will indefinitely have trigger material that includes, but is certainly not limited to: references to mild-graphic physical, emotional, sexual and mental abuse, substance abuse, minors involved in said substance abuse, mild-graphic consensual sex [much later], and Munch and Arthur's cynicism and banter, likely complete with them ganging up on Huang at some point. Because I'm sure Arthur would not like to be shrinked.

...Speaking of, I'm not quite sure if English people use the term 'Freud squad' for shrinks...if anyone has information on that, I would love you long time! Also, if you find errors, please pardon me. I did a check-over, but you can never really check your own works completely, right? If you find errors, please point them out! I'll fix them and will eventually post compilations in the main Hetacomm!

...Other than that, I'm out. I love you, muffins! *HUGS AND KISSES*

Ffft, cliffhangers Dx Ahhh, I really hope you update soon <3

I really liked the whole I think I was waiting for you bit :3 Are those angels Finland and Sweden? 8D

above anon who commented shares the feeling of EngIta, lol <3

Arthur had an image to uphold; a gentleman, a nobleman, an aristocrat, royalty…different names for the same thing. His people tore him apart from his family; hatred ran deep, making it difficult to be in the same room as any of his brothers. They liked Canadians, at least-he doubted he’d be able to handle breaking Matthew any further- and they were at least friendly with Americans. That didn’t stop Alfred from dredging up old wounds, the insensible prick. Then, there was Francis.

The slightest thought of the Frenchman, of any Frenchman, made his insides knot, made them twist in the most uncomfortable manner, made him want to break things, glass especially. To take the shards and drive them into his skull in hopes of silencing the protests; into his ears, his eyes, his gut, his heart. He didn’t hate Francis, they did; he didn’t hate his brothers, they did; they weren’t jealous of the easy relationship between Matthew and Francis, he was; they weren’t angry about the abusive relationship France and Scotland had once been in, he was. He was supposed to be them, though, wasn't he?
*
He wasn’t sure why he went to the parties. Alfred’s taste in music was mediocre on a good day and absolutely abysmal on a bad day. Today was a bad day; the American was stressed, throwing one of his beach parties in hopes of relaxing. A quick glance around the beach revealed three things off the bat.

Alfred was missing, so was Ivan. Natalia was not pleased and was barely being distracted by her sister.

Matthew was being groped by a severely piss-drunk Gilbert and Antonio; his brothers were closing in on their nephew to save him. Lovino looked on in annoyance.

Francis was alone. …Francis. Arthur almost turned away, but caught the blue eyes and held them for a moment. A moment of surprise passed, before a sultry, taunting smirk crossed Francis’ face and Arthur felt his cheeks and ears burning in fury. Francis idly pushed off from the beach bar he’d been situated at the end of and began disappearing down the coastline. He would be the one that had perfected the perfect escape. Arthur waited, willed himself to calm down; willed himself not to listen to the alcohol calling him; willed that look out of his mind. In the end, the sea’s lull called him to the shore. He went to calm down, but as soon as he felt the waves on his bare feet, he gave up on reason and allowed his body to carry him the way Francis had gone. No one was drunk enough, stupid enough, to follow him so close to his element.

Francis had found a surprisingly clear part of the beach-he always was rather good at finding the hidden whereabouts of any given location- and was staring out at the sea, a glass of wine tilting to and fro in his hand. Arthur stopped a few feet from him, suddenly uncertain as to what he was doing.

“Your subtlety has improved none over the years, Arthur.” Francis broke the silence easily, too easily. Arthur bristled irritably as he continued, “You detest Alfred’s parties. What are you doing here?”

“You think I would leave you or the hellion with my brothers?”

“You think your brothers care?” Francis countered smoothly, turning a cool smirk on the Brit, “I think you missed something.” There was a pause in which Arthur willed himself to calm back down, only to snarl darkly when he speaks again.

“No rum to disclose yourself, either, cher. How unlike you-.”

He isn’t quite sure what happened, but the next thing he knew he was on Francis, pinning him to the sand. One hand is covering his, the one with the wine glass; the other is at his throat, pressing just enough to keep him still, to warn him that he isn’t afraid to turn his hand into a fist. The hand over the wine glass presses down, clenches until he feels the unmistakable shatter between his and Francis’ hand, feels the shards lodge into both their hands. Francis hisses in discomfort, but makes no move to push him off. So calm, collected…Arthur clenches his hand until he feels the Frenchman begin to writhe beneath him.

“I hate you.” He isn’t sure where the words come from. …No, that’s a lie; he knows. He knows exactly where they’re coming from. He can see the feral smirk on Francis’ face, knows he’s wearing a scowl himself in turn.

“Aren’t we the romantic one tonight, Arthur.”

“Fuck you.”

He wasn’t sure how he managed to bite the words out, but he felt himself choking and hunched over-still gripping Francis’ hand, still pressing at his throat- and curled in on himself until his head was resting against the Frenchman’s chest. He’d long forgotten the sting in his hand, though Francis started to squirm uncomfortably again, more so when he gripped his hand tighter.

“I could kill you…so easily…all these years.” Arthur muttered, more to himself than anyone else, “Why you…why fucking you?”

If he tried, Arthur could remember when they were little. Francis hadn’t been…as cruel, par say, as his other brothers. Francis had been nurturing for a little while, just until Arthur was old enough to fight back. He could remember their first fight; he hadn’t wanted to kill him, but that nonchalant, feigned ignorance that had graced the Frenchman’s eyes…that look that said he knew what he was doing, who he was and was merely pretending not to recognize the Brit. Arthur growled, slowly coming down from his memories as he felt Francis’ bones protesting any further torture in his grip.

Arthur concedes and slowly sits up, slowly releases Francis and backs away. He can feel the blood running down his fingers and watches in a slight daze as Francis being picking the shards from his hand as though they were tiny pebbles embedded on the surface of his skin.

“Why me?” The tone could almost be considered mocking, but Francis is still wearing that smirk. That smirk that says he’s being deadly serious, in a twisted manner, “Because l’amour is a beautiful disaster for those of us that survive. For us.”

It took a minute before Arthur realized Francis had closed their tiny gap of personal space, before he realized the Frenchman had him by the throat and was forcing him to look up. He did, however, notice that he was using his still bloody hand to hold his throat…it was rather sickening in an oddly satisfying manner.

“We survived, non?” Francis whispered, his teeth grazing lightly at Arthur’s ear and just below, “Our hatred survived. L’amour is for the mortals; for the children that do not yet know what we will endure.”

He released Arthur slowly and allowed the Brit his personal space once more. They held a tense glare in the silence before Francis gave a rather dark smirk as he brushed by, “After all…I hate you more than you could imagine, Angleterre.”

...Uhm...I just...yeah. I heard the song today and remembered seeing this request and uhm...I'm sorry the bonus didn't find its way in, but...I might try again as I'm not sure I like where this left off...hmm...
Anon also apologizes if this isn't quite what OP wanted orz
Also, please pardon any errors orz anon hasn't slept yet and she kept finding herself jumping between past and present tense, though she's fairly certain she fixed all of it;;;

Oh my...this is not what OP was expecting at all, but she is loving this muchly! XD Were you thinking of posting more?

I loved the description of the surf and the tension/violence brewing there.

And the party was so awesome...especially poor Mattie getting gropped by both Prussia AND Spain *shakes head*

Thanks~

Actually, shouldn't it be "pequeña" since she's female?

Do OP!anon and Author!Anon mind multi fills?
This author!anon started to write a fill a short while ago, she majorly geeked out over this prompt. But she's very slow about it TT.TT

...T.T Should it? I don't knooow! But that makes sense, language-wise, so yeah. I'll change that too.

I hope it's what you've wanted then!

Hetalia Kink meme part 14 -- CLOSED

Re: Voyage Home First Chapter Author Notes+Translations

Re: DIY Doomsday (10d/10d)

Re: Punish Me, Daddy (1b/1)

Re: Voyage Home First Chapter Author Notes+Translations

CONTINUATION TO COME IN PAST FILLS

Re: Voyage Home First Chapter Author Notes+Translations

Re: Wet Nights [6/?]

Re: Author!Anon needs some help. e_e

Re: Voyage Home First Chapter Author Notes+Translations

Re: Flawless 8b/??

Re: Making A Cake (2/2)

Re: Making A Cake (2/2)

Words Never Meant So Much [5/??]

Words Never Meant So Much [6/??]

Words Never Meant So Much [7/??]

Words Never Meant So Much [Author's Note~]

OP

+1

What You Do To Me [1a/1]

What You Do To Me [1b/1]

OP

Re: Voyage Home First Chapter Author Notes+Translations

Re: ensemble cast; FrUK; (US/Japan?) - Hetalia x Kingdom Hearts crossover

Re: Voyage Home First Chapter Author Notes+Translations

Re: Voyage Home First Chapter Author Notes+Translations