#LIVE LOVE LAUGH FRUK

[yanmunchymochi]

✐Yan's intro ⊹܀∘

ℹ️ this account is mainly for me posting Hetalia (or maybe OC) contents, but most likely it's gonna be Lietpol and 2p!Lietpol all over my page

➢ i draw

➣ i love to make new friends

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𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬 ✂--------------------------------------------------

Live Laugh Love Lietpol

❕┆🇱🇹🇵🇱🔄 // 2P!🇱🇹🇵🇱🔄❌

☑︎ I also ♡ GerIta / Sufin / DenNor / HongIce / VietTai / FRUK / SwissAus / PruHun / GerRome / RoChu + more...

⌧ I'm not much of a multishipper but I'm fine with most other ships (;ω;)

⚠︎ dislike RusLiet、RusPol (they make me uncomfortable) as well as incest

[vanessalocke]

[FrUK fanfic] England's love confession plan

Pairing: France x England

Summary: How to love a tsundere

Warning: Implied r4pe/Non-con

Rate M for s3xual, dirty language and s*x jokes in fanfic. Very OOC.

Nationverse but not canonverse. In this universe, France and England's relationship with America, Canada and Sealand is father-papa and sons.

This is a fanfic I wrote in FrUK week two years ago. I read it again and found it interesting so I decided to translate it into English. Forgive my grammar, English is not my native language.

Original work (Vietnamese)

==========

Otaku guys often think that if you're in love with a tsundere, you'll get beaten up every day. The sad truth is, the person who will be beaten is not the love object of that unpredictable tsundere, but rather her/his love advisors.

This case is no exception.

"Oh dear!" Spain laughed and fell onto the table. "Are you saying that you still haven't dared to confess your love to France? Mom, this is the joke of the millennium!"

BOOM! A book shot like an arrow at Spain's head.

"I can't believe it, you guys have known each other for a thousand years." Prussia cried out in horror. "How can the British Empire be so cowardly-"

SMARSH! A heavy blow landed on Prussia's face. Germany heard the noise and hurriedly ran from the kitchen to the living room to take care of the bruises on his brother's face. Italy was about to comment something, but when he saw England's hand threateningly throw the heavy golf ball he picked up from nowhere into the air, then catch it and throw it again into the air, he remained silent.

"I humbled myself to tell you, no, you guys begged me to tell you my story, and yet you guys still act like clowns?"

"Didn't you beat someone because you were embarrassed about people exposing your feelings publicly-"

"Shut up, America, or I'll tell your boss to let you copy the US Constitution a hundred times by hand like last time."

"Nonsense! You told us your story, you asked us to give you advice, and then when we spoke, you beat us!" Germany cried out while sadly looking at his brother's bruised eye.

"Doesn't the whole European Union know that England is in love with a certain Frenchman so he can't hide it anymore-"

"And you better keep your mouth shut if you don't want to get hit by England again. You foul mouth!" Germany rolled his eyes and stuffed a piece of bread into Prussia's mouth.

"Come on, everyone calm down." Japan poured tea and placed the cup in front of England. "Drink a cup of tea, everything will be fine. Let Igirisu-san finish his story first."

"Oh my gosh, there's nothing to say." America pouted, his voice sarcastic. "When the (fake) apocalypse comes, they want to die together, they used to live in the same house, they used to hunt together, they have two children in North America, and every Christmas they go to each other's house to stay overnight, they even gave their house keys to each other. Then England said that he had never confessed his love. Oh my, if you haven't confessed your love yet, you know how helpless and useless you are in love."

"I'll tell your boss to let you copy the Constitution five hundred times by hand." England said through gritted teeth. "And I don't mind hitting you, if your boss allows it."

"Wait! Wait! I have a question!" Italy exclaimed. "If what America said was true, then these two should have slept together already??"

The atmosphere among the people there was very quiet. Yes. Everyone was convinced that these two guys had been sleeping together for a long time, but now they realized that if England hadn't confessed his love yet, there was no way they could sleep together. Or are they in a love-hate, friends-with-benefits relationship? Wow, does that mean England accidentally falls in love with his friend of benefit? If so, that's too pathetic, too pathetic.

All eyes in the room were excitedly focused on England, making England felt a bit down.

"He and I actually slept together, but we slept holding hands." England said bitterly as if he didn't want to admit this himself. "He never... um, had any conscious s*xual behavior with me."

"Then why the hell do America and I exist here!" Canada, almost invisible there, cried out through his fading. "Aren't we the best proof of your and papa's behavior? And Sealand too?"

"Ah uh, well, I said I've never had s*x while sober, not to mention I've never had s*x while drunk..." England's voice got smaller and smaller until it was no longer as loud as the sound of a mosquito. "There were only two, or three times. And every time we had s*x, we always had results, so what can we do now?"

Everyone let out a loud scream. Drunk s*x says a lot. On the one hand, it explains the skinship of these two guys as if they were about to lay pipe. On the one hand, it says that these two people have been "interacting" with each other but are not actually in a relationship.

Suddenly there was a sound of applause.

Two sounds.

Three sounds.

The whole room applauded.

England looked around bewilderedly. He didn't understand why these people were clapping and even looking at him with admiration.

"Amazing! So great!" Prussia sobbed.

"That's right! If we don't count a thousand years..." Spain continued. "No, for a country, a thousand years is just twenty years. If you don't take that amount of time into account, this is the first time I've seen someone unlock the achievement 'having children with his crush'."

"Living together as a couple! Being parents of three children!" Canada brought up the towel to blow his nose.

"Always sit together in meetings." Japan nodded.

"Of the three children, two of them were successful beyond expectations." Italy blew the toy trumpet.

"Just haven't confessed yet- hey, Canada, why are you stuffing a rag in my mouth?"

Before the loud applause of the people around him, England's cheeks turned pink. Well, even he didn't realize that he had come so far!

"Everyone is praising me too much. I'm so embarrassed. But wait, I came here so everyone can give me advice! I can't stay in this deadlock forever."

"I thought it was something big!" America replied bluntly, "This is easy to handle. All the times father and papa slept together was because you guys were drunk, right? Just do it!"

"America-san, you're a genius!" Japan flipped through some shady book that England didn't know the name of. When asked about it, Japan only said that it was a "reference document".

A plan to flirt and seduce France was drawn up. Everyone is excited about this plan, although we're never sure if it's because they really want these guys to become a couple or because they're bored and need to find something to entertain them.

***

Plan A, started when England invited all the Europeans to the pub after the meeting.

Everyone knew what he meant, so they all left. As a result, only England and France remained.

France was planning to go home. But Italy nudged France, whispering to him:

"Do you see that England is sad and has a lot to say?"

"No."

"You noticed. Look at that sad look."

"Isn't he about to sneeze?"

Italy had a deeply hurt look on his face. He burst into tears, desperately ran away, running and screaming. "Horrible! Cruel! Unbelievable! France is an idiot!!!"

England hesitantly approached France, reaching out to pull the Frenchman's shirt.

"What's wrong, are you hurting someone again?"

"No, Italy suddenly said a few words to me and then acted like that. Honestly, I don't understand anything."

"Yeah, you must be betraying someone else's feelings or something." England sulked and turned away. "Even your cousin you did the same."

"I didn't do that." France pinched England's cheek, making England's face turn red. "You always make random inferences and then accuse me wrongly."

Actually, England didn't think haphazardly. In fact, England knew that France was not the easygoing type, because if so, he would not have agreed to live with France for a while as a family with America and Canada. But England needed a reason to scold France.

As a matter of course, France couldn't bear to leave England alone, so he went to the pub with England. The reason was completely reasonable, France knew more than anyone else how violent England would become - destroying tables and chairs when he was drunk. He considered himself responsible for controlling England's madness.

However, there was something strange about England today. He had just drunk a little and was already drunk, then complained to France about his failed love relationship with a certain man whose name France did not know.

France would be jealous, right? Would he be jealous? Japan said that the motif of complaining about an old love will make the other person reveal whether they like us or not. If only he would have been jealous...

No, there was no jealousy here at all! France nodded with deep sympathy, even patting his shoulder and cooing... but wait, what is he sympathizing with?? Don't say... don't say that he has been with many other people so there is this sympathy here.

Now, somehow, the original plan was to make France jealous of England's ex, but now England was silently angry. Don't get angry! Calm down! Don't show jealousy!

England pretended to be drunk to the point of fainting, leaned his head on France's shoulder, then reached out to hug France's arm, rubbing his head against him, deliberately calling out another man's name.

"For men, it's hard to get past the word '色'! Your job is to take advantage of the touch and suggest the beast inside France to come out."

China said so. England thought it was reasonable, so he practiced like that. Just slap on the drunk label, after that, all the blame will be France's.

Surprisingly, France did not react at all. He calmly finished his glass of wine, then asked England.

"If you're so drunk, can you still go home by yourself?"

"Huh? No... come on, I'm not drunk!" England pretended to drawl, increasing his physical contact with France.

"Haizzz, it can't be helped. You should go home. I'll take you home." France sighed.

Great! England raised the flag in his stomach. Switch to plan B. On the road, he will stagger, unable to walk, and then France will have to carry him home on his back. Physical contact, breathing in the ear is an important factor to increase love!

"Don't..." England grabbed France's hand, lowering his voice. "Just... don't bring me home. My brother seeing me like that... won't like it..."

"So where should I take you now?"

"Some hotel room..."

France's hotel room, England's implied. He had to hint a bit because no one ever said it out loud.

"Okay, in the morning the receptionist accidentally assigned me a room with a double bed. You can lie on my bed and rest until morning and then go home." France nodded in agreement.

Of course it was. It was England who told the receptionist to arrange that room with a double bed for France.

England's arm was brought around France's shoulders. France helped him out of the wine table and then took him outside the bar. That's right, now France will carry him on his back...

"Hello, is there a taxi nearby? Please give me one." France said into the phone, surprising England.

A few minutes later, the damn taxi parked right in front of the two of them. France pulled England into the taxi, placed him gently on the seat, and even took off his coat to wrap him up neatly.

England wanted to curse. Of course he was happy to have France cover him with his coat, but damn it, this wasn't part of the plan!!!

The comforting thing was, England was cuddled in France's warm arms. Perhaps France was afraid he was cold. And best of all, despite the possibility that England could vomit at any moment, France still let England lay in his lap.

Actually, England could never stop loving France.

Okay. Go to plan C!

France took England to his hotel room. He carried England all the way from the taxi to the hotel room. Of course, England pretended to babble nonsense, called some guy's name that England didn't even know, and rubbed against France.

France understood England's s*xual solicitation body language to mean he was about to go crazy and destroy everything. Thinking so, France immediately took a cloth rope he pulled from somewhere and tied England's arms and legs and carried him on his shoulders just like the old days when he came back from hunting and carried a wild boar on his shoulders.

"... Hey, where did you get these ropes from?" England asked France. In his mind, England began to explain all kinds of cases, the one that England believed most was that these ropes were France's favorite tool in bed.

France's answer made England unpredictable.

"Ah yes, that time my boss locked me in my room so I tore off the bed sheet and tied it into a cloth rope to throw down from the window." France answered.

"... I believe it for now."

"No one forced you to believe it. It sounds like a wife interrogating her husband." France said jokingly. But the truth is, England was intending to interrogate France.

England was brought by France to his room, placed on the bed, and then France proceeded to untie each knot on England's legs and arms.

As soon as his arms and legs were free, England pushed France onto the bed and kissed France's face.

"Hey! What are you doing??" France cried out in panic before England locked his mouth.

"S*x, nothing else! You're asking too much!" England said, unbuttoning each button of his shirt.

Thinking that he wasn't acting well enough, England tried calling out the name of his imaginary ex-lover while groping France's body.

"No no, the person you want to have s*x with is him, not me." France cried without tears. "You're drunk. Please sober up."

"You don't understand, you..." England suddenly felt angry. But he quickly cooled down and wrote a tragic story. "During the time I spent with him, I always thought of you, Francis. I felt extremely sorry for him. When he found out that I always missed you, we broke up."

"What does that mean?" France tried to pretend he didn't understand anything.

"IT MEANS I LIKE YOU, YOU IDIOT!!!" England shouted. "I DON'T WANT TO HAVE S*X WITH ANYONE BUT YOU! NOW TAKE OFF YOUR PANTS, QUICKLY!!"

"I WILL NOT TAKE OFF!!" France shouted back. "YOU RUDE, YOU CAN'T MAKE SOMEONE HAVE S*X WITH YOU THIS WAY!!"

"WHO CARES!!"

"I WILL TELL YOUR BROTHER!!"

"WHAT WILL YOU TELL??"

"THAT YOU PUT ME ON THE BED, FORCED ME TO TAKE OFF MY PANTS!!"

"YES THE DOGS MAY WILL BELIEVE!! THIS IS YOUR ROOM!! HE WILL BELIEVE THAT YOU ARE TRYING TO PLAY A TAKE ON ME!!"

"YOU BASTARD!!" France spoke up. "ARE YOU GOING TO USE THIS TO BLACKMAIL ME??"

"I DON'T INTEND TO BLACKMAIL YOU!! WHY DO YOU KEEP THINKING SO BAD ABOUT ME?"

"IT'S BETTER THAN YOU ALWAYS THINK I'M A BASTARD CHEATING EVERYONE!!"

"WHATEVER, TAKE OFF YOUR PANTS!"

"YOU RUDE!! PUT YOUR COCK IN YOUR PANTS!"

"THIS IS NOT THE FIRST TIME YOU AND ME ARE DOING THIS TOGETHER! AND NOW YOU ARE STILL SHOWING DIGNITY?!"

"WE WERE DRUNK AT THAT TIME!!"

"THEN NOW I'M SO DRUNKY HERE!!"

"BUT I DON'T!! F*CK IT, I DON'T WANT TO GO TO JAIL!!!"

"YOU COWARD! WEAK COCK!"

"BETWEEN HAVING A WEAK COCK AND BEING IN PRISON, I WISH TO HAVE A WEAK COCK!!" France declared eloquently.

On the other side of the wall, right in the room next to France's hotel room, there was a group of people listening to their curses.

"They're so loud that we don't even have to strain our ears to hear them." Italy gasped in admiration. "We don't have to keep our voices down because their voices drown out ours."

"Hey China, have you ever seen a wrestling match as dramatic as this?" America asked the person next to him.

"Ho ho ho, the boy asked a good question." China nodded. "Of course not."

"Oh dear, I want to write a memoir about this passionate night so much." Prussia smacked his lips.

"I don't want England to burn down our house." Germany muttered.

"Wait Germany, why is a serious young man like you following us here?" Spain was startled to notice Germany's existence.

"We sell corn here, produced by a Dutch company." Belgium classifieds.

"Wow, it's so expensive. My place makes it both better and cheaper." Japan grimaced as he ate his first piece of popcorn.

Return to France's side of the room. I don't know when, what was a s*xual solicitation approaching r*pe, turned into a real wrestling match without the people involved even knowing what the hell they were wrestling for.

With the intoxication already in his body, England soon became tired, and collapsed before France.

Looking at England lying exhausted on him, France tried to pat England's face a little. There was no reaction. Only then did he breathe a sigh of relief, and hugged England into his arms, stroking his head and comforting him. Well, he always liked England lying in his arms like this.

France took off England's shoes and tie, and carefully covered England with a blanket. He went into the bathroom to shower, change into pajamas, then returned to the bed to lie next to England.

"I don't care if I go to jail or not. You even called me a coward! You stupid caterpillar, who do you think I am?" France leaned down and kissed England's forehead. "Whether there's a law or not, when you're drunk, I won't do anything to you!"

France turned off the light, leaned closer to England and wrapped his arms around him. Soon, France's breathing gradually became regular. In the darkness, the red color gradually brightened up to England's ears.

Okay, England told himself, the next morning, he would pretend to forget everything that happened tonight, and give France a bouquet of flowers, or a meal at the most luxurious restaurant in London. Of course there will only be two people. At that time, England will be the most polite and civilized gentleman in the world, no longer the drunk guy who forced France to take off his pants like tonight.

France will certainly be very pleased.

As expected, if you want to confess your love to someone, be a bit dignified and polite.

And the group of love strategists on the other side. Well, actually, they were all planning to get away before the British tsundere unleash his wrath on them. It's okay, being punched by the British Empire and watching an entertaining scene like this is worth it to them.

As for America, he didn’t want to return to his country, nor was he afraid of anything. Leaving the hotel, he continued to stay in London all night and had a good time.

Because, learning from last time's experience, he hired students to hand-copy more than two thousand copies of the US Constitution for him. With two thousand copies of the Constitution in hand, he was no longer afraid of copying punishments.

That's because America hadn't considered that England will whisper loudly to the US President about forcing him to copy The Gettysburg Address a thousand times as a fine, but that's a story for later.

Tonight, while England is still resting comfortably in France's arms, let America make all the money in London's casinos with his childlike joy filled with happiness.

_The End_

Author’s note: As you may have realized (or not), this is a text rife with sarcasm.

[olympeline]

FrUK FACE family Parent Trap AU, part 8! Part 1

Last time we left off, Tony had just returned and Matthew met “his” future stepdad. It was a shock to come face to face with Tony the way he did, but Mattie didn’t give himself away. He’s had plenty of practice dealing with curveballs by this point. So, they all sit down for breakfast and, afterwards, Matthew gets to witness Arthur and Antonio interact. Just ordinary domestic stuff. Mattie observes, and soon he can see what Alfred meant when he said that - although he likes Tony - he doesn’t think Tony and his dad are a good match. They get along, but there’s no passion. It’s almost like a business friendship, albeit an affectionate one. Tony is a nice guy and Mattie enjoys laughing at his jokes and chatting about ordinary, day-to-day things. So, no potential evil stepfather subplot here. But he still feels his stomach sink at the thought of what could happen in the future after he and Alfred swap back.

Can Matthew picture Arthur married to Tony? He can, but it’s not a picture that sits well with him.

What picture would sit well? Ah, isn’t that just the question. But one we’re not ready to answer. Yet

Meanwhile, Alfred is enjoying his time with Francis but Mattie’s jibe last time they talked is still niggling him. Alfred knows that he isn’t really a bad kid, but he does frustrate and exasperate Arthur. Lot’s of calls from teachers about talking in class and angry neighbours clutching baseballs and complaining about broken windows. Stuff like that. The thought of Arthur being happier with his more well behaved son? A son he won’t have to constantly excuse and apologise for? Yeah. Alfred no-likee. He’s well on his way to loving Matthew as a brother, but still. A little seed or resentment being planted? Maybe. Both twins have some complex feelings to deal with. I mean, on top of everything else going on with their situation, lol

Things go on as normal, until a few days later when Alfred comes home from school to find Uncle Gil waiting for him. Francis was called away last minute for work and so Gil is here to babysit. Alfred doesn’t mind. Gil is awesome! The two of them are ignoring Francis’s meticulously laid out instructions and making their own idea of food instead (“Hey, Uncle Gil, can we have a can of frosting for dinner?” “Sure, kid!”) when Gilbert casually brings up that his brother is getting married soon. In New York. Seems his fiance, an Italian expat, runs a restaurant there. Afterwards, Gil’s brother plans to move to New York permanently to live with his new spouse. Without thinking, Alfred starts enthusiastically talking about how great NYC is and how much Gilbert’s brother (Uncle Ludwig to Mattie) will love it there.

Alfred goes on and on about his home city for so long (homesickness nipping at the lad? Yep) that he doesn’t realise Gilbert has fallen silent and is just standing there, watching and listening. With an unreadable look on his face. Alfred trails off when Gilbert suddenly reaches out and tilts Alfred’s head, brushing his fingers behind his ear. Alfred is confused.

“Uncle Gil? What-?”

“You fell off the wall at the end of the garden when you were a kid,” Gilbert says. “Fell and cut yourself on a stone. Bled like a stuck pig and needed stitches. First time in hospital. Fran was having kittens. Think he cried more than you. Remember?”

Alfred feels his heart start to bang in his chest. Mattie never thought to tell him about that. It happened too long ago and they didn’t have time to go over everything. Alfred tries to sound confident when he replies:

“Yeah, yeah. I remember.”

“You do, huh? Like you remember New York?”

Alfred’s mouth is dry. The confidence is rapidly ebbing.

“I - y-yeah…”

“Weird, since you’ve never been.”

Alfred’s heart stops.

“I…I…”

Those red eyes bore into him.

“Or,” Gilbert says. “Should I say, Mattie’s never been. Or is that wrong now, too?”

Gilbert feels behind Alfred’s ear again, then takes his hand back. And stares Alfred down.

“No scar.”

Alfred can’t speak. He feels like he’s going to faint.

“Let me guess,” Gilbert says. “Alfred?”

(Dun dun dun! In the end, it was Gilbert who worked it out first. Whodathunkit? Anyway, that’s all I have for now. So, please enjoy and stay tuned for part 9! (´ε｀ )♡)

[secret-sageent]

here tumblr. have some fruk that I haven’t posted on my ao3 yet cuz I am still trying to decide if it is a good or not

————————

It was late evening when Arthur returned from work; the sun was dipping low over the distant hills, casting a warm glow over the world and allowing the sky to bleed into the colours of twilight. The air was just beginning to warm, promising summer just around the corner, and Arthur hesitated briefly on the doorstep of his home, closing his eyes as a soft breeze kissed his cheeks. Beyond the closed front door a sound caught his attention, music and a warm low voice singing in tune.

Arthur stepped inside and found Francis reclining in an arm chair in the living room, eyes closed. His record player sat open on the side table, vynil spinning slowly and emitting soft music. As Arthur closed the door behind him and as Francis slowly opened his eyes the song switched to gentle piano, and then Frank Sinatra began to sing about the pale moon and the nearness of you. Arthur scrunched up his nose, hangning his coat and hat on the rack by the front door.

“Sinatra? Really, Francis? That man was a complete douchebag,” he said.

Francis smiled, getting up and crossing the room to kiss Arthur gently in greeting, “Ah, cher, an artist being less than admirable is no reason hate their art. Or else you would not be able to read those Harry Potter books you so enjoy.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, accepting another soft kiss on the cheek, but found he didn’t really have a good argument for that. Francis, blessedly, took his win with merely a knowing smile and interlaced their fingers, drawing Arthur further into the room. Arthur raised an eyebrow as Francis’ hands settled into his waist and his partner guided them into a gentle waltz.

Francis smiled in response to his look, “He may have been an unsavoury character, but his music is good, non?”

“I suppose,” Arthur conceded reluctantly.

As they waltzed slowly around the room, Arthur could feel himself relaxing from his day at work. He let his head drop onto Francis’ shoulder, arms around his neck, and Francis responded by turning his face into Arthur’s cheek, placing soft kisses there.

“When your in my arms,” Francis sang into Arthur’s ear, voice low, “And I feel you so close to me, all my wildest dreams come true.”

Arthur smiled, cheeks flushing slightly, and he must have been feeling especially indulgent because he found himself continuing the verse, “I need no soft lights to enchant me if you’ll only grant me the right to hold you ever so tight, and to feel in the night…”

He pulled back, cradling Francis’s cheeks in his hands and whispering she last line against his lips, “The nearness of you.”

Francis’s eyes were half closed, looking lovestruck as Arthur pulled away and Arthur laughed, kissing him again. The song finished and they fell still, but neither made a move to pull away from the other. Francis brought a hand to Arthur’s jaw, rubbing his cheek with his thumb, looking for all the world like Arthur had hung the moon. Arthur blushed under his scrutiny, unable to meet the soft look in his eyes.

“You are an incurable sap, Francis,” he said.

“Incurable? Or without any desire to be cured?” Francis smiled.

Arthur rolled his eyes at that, stepping out of his arms and smacking his arm lightly, “Sap.”

Francis laughed, catching Arthur’s wrist before he could get too far away. Arthur drew a sharp breath in surprise as he was spun and dipped over Francis’ knee in time with the music.

“Francis!” He exclaimed, smacking Francis’ arm with his fist again, slightly harder than before, “You dolt!”

Francis kissed him, holding the back of Arthur’s neck with one hand before righting him. He pulled the man close, voice quiet, “I love you.”

Arthur hesitated, then sighed to hide how giddy those words made him feel. He pecked Francis’ lips with a quick kiss, “I love you too. Now, let me go? I am sick of being in this suit.”

Francis released him with a soft, “Ah but you look so delicious in that suit, cher.”

“And I am uncomfortable,” Arthur said, “I’m going to shower.”

“Care for company?” Francis smirked.

Arthur sighed, turning back to give him one more kiss, “Maybe later. I am exhausted, honestly.”

Francis hummed in understanding, “You take a shower and change and I will make dinner. Okay?”

“Sounds perfect,” Arthur replied, smiling.

Francis smiled back, and then, heart feeling impossibly light, he headed to the kitchen.

[koolkat9]

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

🧐 Do you spend much time researching for your stories?

🎉What leads you to consider a fic a success? (For your own fics and others'!)

🎨How do you feel about fanart of your stories?

Fanfic Writer Emoji Ask

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

Humour isn't exactly my strong suit, but I'll try to think of something. Oh I got it

'Arthur rolled his eyes. “Well, now we all know,” he interjected. He grabbed Gilbert’s hand and began pulling him away as the former nation tried desperately to retort. “Goodbye Allie, Ludwig. And don’t you try to pull anything funny with him, Alastair. Ludwig is a good lad.”

“I’m not you,” Alastair teased, “I don’t go around defiling good Christian boys.”

Gilbert’s face reddened while Arthur tensed. Let’s just say a new record was set in how quickly a fight broke out at the British Isles family reunion.'- Runs in the Family

Arthur defiling good Christian boys became a bit of a thing on my blog for a bit. Because it does go for quite a few Arthur ships lol (porteng, fruk to some extent, pruk).

🧐 Do you spend much time researching for your stories?

Usually my stories don't require research. I work mainly within modern times in the personal lives of these characters. But on occasion, I will write more historical based pieces and do some research for that. But usually history acts as a backdrop because I don't exactly have the resources or time to make an in-depth historical fic.

🎉What leads you to consider a fic a success? (For your own fics and others'!)

If the author likes the fic. I am of the philosophy that fanfiction authors should write for themselves first and foremost. My most successful fics in my eyes are not the fics with the most kudos or comments, but the ones that I can come back and reread and still get hit with emotions.

In a similar vein I guess a fic is successful if people come back to reread it, including myself.

🎨How do you feel about fanart of your stories?

I love it! I've been lucky enough to have fanartist friends do this for me and there is nothing like the joy of seeing art of what I wrote.

[kakashi-fangirl-ita-blog]

Lo so che sarebbe un ask, ma io lo faccio lo stesso così

1:What got you into Hetalia? UN EDIT SU INSTAGRAM DI @INNOCENTEDITS E PRIMA ANCORA UN MEP CON SOME NIGHTS

2: What month and year did you first start watching it? LUGLIO 2017

3: Who is your favourite character currently? FRANCIA

4: If you could have one ship become canon, what pairing would it be? FRUK

5: Do you like Hetalia yaoi? BOH RAGA SE GUARDI HETALIA NON PUOI NON SHIPPARE I PERSONAGGI MASCHILI TRA DI LORO

6: How has Hetalia affected history for you? CAPISCO DI ESSERE PERMANENTEMENTE DANNEGGIATA QUANDO LEGGO SUI LIBRI DI STORIA "I TEDESCHI PENETRARONO IN ITALIA" E PENSO A TUTT'ALTRO

7: What do you prefer and why: Axis or Allies? IL TRIO È ICONICO, MA FORSE PREFERISCO GLI ALLIES

8: Hetalia OTP? FRUK E SPAMANO

9: Do any of your friends like Hetalia? YEPPP

10: Are you caught up with all of the episodes? LO AMMETTO: NON HO GUARDATO TUTTA L'ULTIMA STAGIONE USCITA- MI SONO DIMENTICATA

11: Which Hetalia-related merchandise (official and unofficial) do you own? DELLE MINI ACTION FIGURE DI FRANCIA E INGHILTERRA, DELLE STATUETTE IN ACRILICO, DELLE SPILLE, DELLE CARTE E DEI PORTACHIAVI

12: Do you read any fanfics and if so, what's your favourite one? NE HO LETTE TROPPE, FAV IN ASSOLUTO IL MIELE SUL BICCHIERE

13: How have you contributed to the fandom? FACEVO EDIT, SCRIVO FANFICTION E DIFFONDO IL VERBO OVUNQUE

14: What popular ship do you not like? NESSUNA, SONO UNA MULTISHIPPER ED È DIFFICILE TROVARE UNA SHIP CHE NON MI PIACCIA

15: What unpopular ship do you like? FORSE UNGHERIA X CZECH

16: Who was the first character you instantly fell in love with? CREDO FOSSE SEMPRE FRANCIA PERCHÈ AVEVO VISTO UN EDIT TRISTE SU DI LUI LOL

17: What episode gave you the most feels? QUELLO DEL SOLDATO FRANCESE

18: What episode gave you the most laughs? FORSE QUELLO DI SAN VALENTINO

19: What is your favourite episode in general? IDK DOVREI RIGUARDARE LA SERIE LMAO

20: Do you have any crossover ships with any Hetalia characters? NO

21: What is your favourite Hetaloid song? MAI SENTITE

22: Thoughts on HetaOni? Have you played it? SAREBBE STATO FIGO FARCI UNO SPIN-OFF ANIMATO

23: Is Germany the Holy Roman Empire? SECONDO ME SI' IN UN CERTO SENSO

24: Any character you don't like in particular? FORSE ESTONIA, LETTONIA E UCRAINA

25: Do you roleplay any characters on Tumblr, Facebook, Twitter, Omegle, etc? NO

26: Who would be the one character you would love to meet? FRANCIA OBV E FORSE ROMANO GIUSTO PER FARMI DARE UNA SVEGLIATA LMAOOO

27: Do you recognize Sealand as a country? LMAO... NO

28: If you could ask Himaruya one question only, what would it be? DATO CHE LI DISEGNI SEMPRE CON QUESTA TENSIONE SESSUALE EVIDENTE, PUOI DISEGNARE FRANCIA E INGHILTERRA CHE FANNO FICHI FICHI? GRAZIE

29: Do you cosplay any of the characters from Hetalia? VOLEVO FARE NYO FRANCIA

30: If you had the ability to change your height, shape, voice, clothing, and even gender, who would be your dream Hetalia cosplay? IDK FORSE INGHILTERRA CON L'OUTFIT ROSSO

31: Look at the country you are currently living in. If they are an official Hetalia character, how do you feel about that character, as well as the country itself? NORD E SUD ITALIA SONO PERFETTI

32: What are some Hetalia OC's (Original Characters) you have made up? CENTRO ITALIA

33: What are some of your biggest headcanons? QUELLO DI FRANCIA-MIMO E INGHILTERRA-GUARDIA NELL'ALDILA', HOGWARTS AU, MUTANT AU

34: What is the one thing about the fandom that irks you the most? GLI ANTIS DELLE SHIP, AVETE ROTTO IL CAZZO

35: Your favourite seiyuu/voice actor in the Sub or the Dub? IL DOPPIATORE DI INGHILTERRA IN GIAPPONESE E ANCHE QUELLA DI CZECH

36: Are you a HetaStuck? Thoughts on it? MA CHE È

37: Is Hetalia the biggest fandom you are in? If not, what is? SONO IN TANTISSIMI FANDOM MA SICURAMENTE HETALIA È UNO DEI PIÙ RILEVANTI INSIEME A PANDORA HEARTS

38: How much has Hetalia taken over your life? TROPPO

39: What is your favourite fan-made video or tribute you've ever seen? QUELLO CON SOME NIGHTS DEI FAN, STAMPATO NEL MIO CERVELLO

40: Do you think Prussia is awesome? OVVIO, MA È ANCHE UN FALLITO AHAHAHAH

41: Personality-wise, which character are you like the most? UN MIX TRA ITALIA, CINA E GIAPPONE

42: How do you feel about the Nordics? AMORINI

43: How do you feel about the "cult" around Germany? DOITSUISM

44: Any crack pairings? LA GERFRA È MOLTO CAOTICA

45: Will you ever leave the Hetalia fandom? NO

46: Are you glad that you started watching Hetalia? SEMPRE

47: What did you do before starting to watch Hetalia? GUARDAVO ALTRI ANIME COME FACCIO ANCHE ADESSO LOL

48: Have you read the Web Comic, watched the Anime, both, or neither? LETTO E GUARDATO

49: What is the thing in general that you absolutely love about Hetalia? LA COMICITA' E IL FATTO CHE SIA MOLTO VERSATILE (SOPRATTUTTO PER FANFICTION, FANART, AU, HEADCANONS)

50: If you could have one wish granted that was Hetalia-related, what would it be? FRUK E SPAMANO CANON PER FAVORE

Interactive Weekend! 50 Random Hetalia Asks!!!

[acemapleeh]

What would they do if the other was hurt? For fruk

So for the most part, neither one of them are going to make a big deal about the other getting hurt. Most of their lives they’ve gone gloating at getting a good shot in the other, a nasty injury as a serves you right, and always knowing the other is going to come back, it’s something that has been met with a shrug and some banter. Of course, they’ve also seen each other at some of the lowest points in their lives and there are times where it’s not funny anymore, it’s not a feeling of victory. It usually comes in the quiet moments of war and hardship, once they’re finally not at each other’s throat but hand in hand as allies.

World War II had them both beaten and battered. Francis, however, wasn’t there to see much of Arthur’s end of it. But Arthur would be screaming at the Battle of Dunkirk as he watched Francis’s bruised, bloody, lifeless form be dragged away. Hearing about the Fall of France would leave him restless and furious. He’s begging to be put back on the lines even though there’s no plan on how to help. Even as the Battle of Britain begins and his body weakens more and more by the day, he aches to aid his oldest love. It wouldn’t be until the Liberation of Paris, with his two eldest sons beside him, does he actually see Francis for the first time in nearly four years. The man’s crazed, wild, mind split in so many directions between parts of him that aided with the Resistance and the other that was under the control of the German government. He attacks Arthur upon sight but the man stands his ground. Arthur holds him, speaks to him in old French that he has never forgotten how to speak. He’s cursed to the high heavens, tears streaming down Francis’s face as he clings to Arthur for dear life. He’s tended to gently, Arthur just not having the strength or care to put up any fronts because God above, never in his existence had he feared that either of them would cease to be more than he had in those few years.

It wouldn’t be until well after the war would Francis truly begin to see how the events took a tole on Arthur’s health. The British Empire is fizzling and in rapid decline, Francis could laugh at him. Mock the misfortune of Arthur’s mightiness weakening and rant about how much of a pain he had been for the last few centuries.

But when he gets to London, he’s given a different address than the one he’s always known. Arthur hadn’t told him his house had been lost in the Blitz but he was at least fortunate that the most important things were transferred safely to the Manor. This new house in East London is still a relic of the past but not as cramped because Arthur hadn’t yet filled it with stuff. He notices the canes by the door, sees the old cigar box has been left out with Arthur’s version of an apothecary. Arthur walks closer to the walls and leans against the kitchen counter as he waits for the kettle. And when had he developed a limp in his left leg?

Arthur bats Francis away, mutters it only acts up when the weather is poor like it is right now. He’s forced to the plush longue in the casual living room to be looked over. Ice is given to his swollen knee and brandy is added to his tea. Francis had always had excellent bedside care when his intentions were to truly care.

They talk about change the entire afternoon and well into the night. Arthur is kept off his feet as Francis picks up small chores around the house; he finds the Brit asleep several times by the fire. Resting his eyes he claims with a yawn and by the time the clock calls for midnight, Arthur makes his way up the stairs though Francis sticks just a step behind, a soft hand to his back because he loves him is all. 

[elithegnome]

A little FACE family story.

A/N: Heavy FRUK shipping, I know, I ship them, shocker amirite? Also Shakira song reference, I know she committed tax fraud so yeah people might not like her as much but lyrics from one of her songs are mentioned.

————————————————————

Arthur was sitting on a plush, vintage chair in the living room, awaiting the arrival of his husband Francis, just to chat about their twin sons. To Arthur, the two seemed to be acting unlike themselves for the past couple of days. The Brit snapped himself out of his thoughts when his darling Francis walked into the room, blue eyes full of concern.

“Mon Cher what is wrong? You look worried!” 

“Yeah Francis, no matter how hard I try I cannot shamidamida eh-eh waca-waca eh-eh from the troubling fact that our sons are acting strange! Matthew won’t even make eye contact with us and Alfred’s being dead silent! And every time I see the two talking they’re always whispering about something and it irks me that I don’t know what’s going on!”

Arthur spat aggressively after taking a long sip of his tea. ( I WAS LISTENING TO SHAKIRA WHILE WRITING THIS AND WHEN I CAME BACK TO IT I STARTED LAUGHING MY ASS OFF, I REFUSE TO GET RID OF THAT IM SORRY DHDHEHEHEGSGSH)

The Frenchman frowned, slowly leaning in to kiss his husband on the cheek, before sitting on the man’s lap. 

“Is there anything I can do?” Francis pleaded, wrapping his arms around Arthur’s neck.

“No, not until we find out what’s up with our sons.” The Brit sighed

Francis gripped Arthur’s hand tightly, taking a moment to observe the rings on their fingers. After this he gazed back up at the Brit, who didn’t look so angry anymore.

“I promise mon lapin, there is nothing wrong with the boys. But even if they are acting odd they’re still the same twins we adopted 11 years ago.” Francis chimed, twirling Arthur’s ash blonde hair in his fingers. 

With that, the sound of a lock clicking echoed through the hallway of the Victorian style house, with two little blond boys shuffling into the house, one shutting the door behind them. 

Francis beamed, raising himself up from Arthur’s lap, ambling himself towards his sons. Both Matthew and Alfred stared up at their Papa, a look of impatience in their eyes. 

“Garçons!  Comment était l'école?” The Frenchman beamed, kissing his sons on their cheeks. 

“School was fine thank you Papa.” Matthew blurted, rushing up the stairs with his brother. 

Francis and Arthur turned to face each other, with Francis shrugging and sighing slightly.

“See what I mean now?” Arthur buzzed, scoffing.

Francis nodded, “Oui, I do. But I think you should be the one to sort out the situation. You were worried first.”

Even though somewhat reluctant, Arthur nodded and made his way upstairs. His footsteps echoed through the hallway as he made his way towards the sound of two voices discussing some unknown topic. Slowly, Arthur turned the doorknob to Alfred’s room, where he saw the two boys seeming to be drawing and gluing paper onto a poster board. 

“Matthew, Alfred,” He began, “What on earth are you doing?” 

Matthew jumped up to his feet and tried his hardest to shut the door, “No you can’t see it-“

Arthur however was stronger, and looked at the poster board intently. 

The words, “Happy Anniversary Papa and Dad!” were written in Alfred’s handwriting across the top of the board, with photos of trips and family pictures plastered below, and “We love you!” also written below those. The Brit felt a tear prick the corner of his eye, had the boys really been spending their free time making an anniversary gift for their parents?

Alfred rubbed his arm sheepishly, “We didn’t want you to figure out until tomorrow.” As if to respond, Arthur pulled the twins into an embrace, slowly stroking their hair.

“Oh boys you didn’t have to do this.” 

“Yeah we did!” Matthew rebutted, “You and Papa have done so much for us and we just wanted to make up for it!”

His father chuckled lightly, “You do enough by just being here.”

Alfred’s eyes widened, “Really?”

“Yes, really.” Arthur smiled, “I love you two so much.” 

The boys began to speak simultaneously, “We love you too Dad!”

Slowly, Arthur backed away from the twin boys, starting to leave the room.

“Well, I’ll leave you both to it.”

[oumaheroes]

Congrats on 100+ followers, you deserve it! I love your blog and writing! For the writing-promp, how about some outsider pov fruk?

Reflections

Word Count: 1690

Characters: England, France - FrUK, America, Canada

----

‘It’ll be fun!’

‘No, it won’t.’

‘Yes it will,’ America insists, leaning forward to get a better look at the screen. England’s face through the webcam is decidedly unimpressed.

‘I don’t like house parties,’ he says, but America can hear slight resignation already there in his voice and so pushes again to seal the deal.

‘Please? Come on man, it’ll be great. Right after the G20 meeting in Texas too so there’s no work to worry about; just stay one more day for it. And hey, if you don’t like it you can leave.’

England raises an eyebrow, ‘You invited me to stay withyou.’

America shrugs, unbothered, ‘Then don’t! Or, do- whatever. It’s up to you.’

England sighs and looks conflicted. America seizes the opportunity and goes in for the kill, ‘Everyone else will be there too; you don’t wanna get FOMO.’

‘I don’t get FOMO,’ England snaps, looking affronted, and America instantly knows he’s won, ‘But fine, if it means that much to you, I’ll come.’

America tries to school his face into something that doesn’t look too triumphant, ‘Awesome! Kay, so it’ll be casual, no need to dress up or be all fancy or anything.’

‘Yes yes,’ England waves a hand dismissively and shifts in his chair, ‘I know how a house party works. I do go to some, you know.’

‘Cool cool cool, just making sure.’ America can’t really picture England at the sort of house party he is thinking of, people lounging about on furniture and playing silly drinking games. But it must happen, he supposes- he’s seen England drunk in pubs before and he’s boisterous so it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to imagine him in an even more casual setting.

Suddenly, America notes the darkness of England’s surroundings and checks the clock in the bottom corner of his screen, ‘Hey, it’s getting pretty late for you over there, isn’t it? I should let you go.’

England glances at his wrist, entirely ignoring the PC he’s using, ‘Yes, I suppose so. Okay, likely I’ll see you next month then.’

‘No backsies, you said yes,’ America reminds him.

England rolls his eyes, ‘I meant that I won’t see you until then, I already said I was coming; I’ll come.’

‘Good!’ America moves his mouse to end the call, ‘See you there, old man. Try to be fun.’

‘What is that supposed to-‘

‘Bye!’

----

Canada glances about the room and nods, ‘It’s not bad.’

America reels back, ‘Not bad? Dude-‘ he gestures to the living room they’re in the doorway of and then to the pool outside, both places spilling over with nations chatting and enjoying themselves under the beat of the music, ‘-it’s more than not bad!’

It really was, in his humble opinion, probably one of his best in recent years. Nearly everyone had turned up who said they were going to and there had been a steady flow of conversation and dancing all night. America had scoped the place out every now and again, making rounds through the house to make sure there were no stragglers sitting somewhere on their own but there wasn’t a need for it- things had run smoothly without him needing to intervene and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. This is why he liked house parties, more than any other type of ‘function’. House parties had a more relaxed vibe, where no one felt the need to impress or do themselves up too much (unless you were one of the older ones, that is; it seemed that no matter what you told them they’d still arrive a bit more formally dressed than everyone else, as if they had some sort of inbuilt compulsion).

Things going so well was probably helped, too, by the fact that America had only invited friends and family. One, because inviting the entire world and putting them in one place anywhere would always result in some form of argument, but also because this was his house and he didn’t want it to get trashed, (regardless of what England had groused when he first arrived and had seen the condition of the place).

Canada shrugs and takes a sip of his drink, ‘I’ve been to better.’

America frowns, disappointed, before jostling his arm playfully when he notices the small, guilty shift of Canada’s eye, ‘Stop messing with me.’

Canada grins behind his cup and nudges him back, ‘Well, no one’s dead yet. That’s always good.’

‘Amen to that,’ America raises his glass in a toast which Canada meets and downs the rest of his drink, ‘Want a refill?’

‘Sure.’

‘Come on then, I ain’t your servant.’

Canada gives him a flat look but wordlessly follows America out of the living room and through to the kitchen. Australia’s there with Mexico, digging about in the lower cupboards for something and Denmark is showing Japan a video on his phone that’s making Japan’s eyes go almost unnaturally wide.

‘Alfred mate, what happened to those Tim Tams you promised me?’ Australia stands up from his crouch on the floor and looks at America reproachfully, ‘I feel swindled.’

America opens his mouth to speak but Canada cuts in first, ‘I hid them.’

America turns to him in confusion, ‘Why?’

‘Zea asked me to, seeing as they couldn’t come. Something about what you did to them at Christmas?’

Australia throws up his hands and scoffs, ‘Jesus fuck, when will they get over that. Where are did you put them? Come on, don’t be a dick, I promised Mexico some.’

Mexico shrugs delicately, ‘I don’t really care, to be honest. I just heard they were bad and wanted to see how bad.’

Australia looks down at her scandalised, ‘Who told you that?!’

She readjusts to sit properly on the floor, ‘People.’

‘Yeah, sorry, I’ll get them.’ Canada’s job has been carried out to the minimum requirement and America knows that he’s happy that he can now take himself out of the silly argument New Zealand and Australia have slyly pulled him into. He goes out of the kitchen, leaving his empty cup behind, and America follows him curiously through the hallway in the direction of the study.

‘What did Australia do to Zea at Christmas?’ America has missed out on England’s most recent yearly family function; he’d wanted to go surfing with Hawaii instead.

‘Don’t ask,’ Canada says tiredly, the air of an older sibling who had seen far too much. America is offended Canada hasn’t told him already. He opens his mouth to say as much when Canada goes to open the slightly ajar study door before stopping abruptly in the doorway, causing America to almost crash into him.

‘Hey, what-‘ Canada hurriedly squeezes America’s arm and tugs him sharply away in a warning for quiet, catching his eye before glancing into the room meaningfully. America peers around him into the study, wondering what he’s seen.

At first, he’s not sure what he’s supposed to be looking at; it looks empty. The main study light is off, leaving the room lit only by one table lamp by the sofa that casts a warm, buttery glow about the place, softening the corners with shadows. He looks to Canada for help and Canada tilts his head in the direction of the French doors, eyebrows raised.

America follows his gaze and understands. The darkness outside has turned the glass to mirrors, reflecting the front of the old sofa that America could previously only see the back of. On it are England and France, curled up together with France’s head on England’s chest and England propped against the armrest, one knee brought up high for him to rest an elbow on. He has his other hand in France’s hair and is gently running his fingers through it, long languid strokes that feel entirely too intimate for America to process.

It’s a strange thing for him to see. He has accidentally caught England and France doing other things throughout his life but intimacy isn’t really something they display. They argue. They bicker. They fight and scream and laugh, sometimes, but they do not do this in front of other people, this gentleness. Neither of the two are what anyone could ever consider gentle, even France, for all his intentional touches and flirtations -the soft ghost of his hand on a shoulder or resting warm around a waist- are not this, not personal. France is very free with his physical affections but they are shallow things, meaningless and ordinary. There is something removed and detached about how he moves amongst crowds, gathering himself close about someone to brush against them as he stands that speaks of friendliness yes, but not closeness. Nothing special to note.

But here, curled on a sofa and unaware they are being watched, there are no guards up or cold pretences between them, just a natural, domestic openness that America finds oddly normal, for how little he has seen glimpses of it. England and France together are many things, have experienced every extreme and mundane state possible for two people to experience, and this side of them is just another shade, as hard as it is to find.

France tips his head back more and opens his eyes, crinkling their corners as he murmurs something low under the muted music that causes England’s lips to twitch into a rare, open smile. They could be anyone then, just two people on a sofa, young and mellow, and for a split-second America can’t see them as anything else. The warm mood hides their identity and blurs their age- familiar strangers tucked away on their own.

America jumps, startled, when Canada nudges him, an elbow into his side and he turns to find his brother gesturing with his head back into the hallway.

He agrees. America knows both England and France would be mortified to be caught like this, boneless and out of character around the person they often so openly despise, so it’s best to leave them as they are undisturbed.

Australia can wait, America will squeeze the truth out of Canada about Christmas and maybe take Zea’s side just for fun.

----

AN:

Sorry for the wait anon, but I hope you see this and I hope that you like! Thanks for the ask and for your kind words, this was a lovely prompt and I really liked thinking about how I could do this justice ;u;

<3

[wiltingofthewhitelily]

{Hetalia Family Week 2021} Day 3: Roadtrip - FACES Family

A/N: Submission #3 for @hetafamilyweek!

Sooo yup, the FACES Family is next, a classic! Love this family dynamic even though I hardly talk about them lol.

I kinda accidentally made this story more FrUk than anything else, sorry 'bout that XD though it does show them being a family too so yeah- I'm actually pretty pleased with how this turned out though, regardless?? Especially since this was one of the ones I was struggling for motivation for at first.

And yes, Michelle in this is Seychelles.

»»————-　➴　————-««

"Aaaand that's it!" Francis declared as he strapped his small daughter, Michelle, to her car seat. "We're ready to go!" And they were: all three kids were in the car (finally), all well as all of their luggage and a few snacks.

"Bloody hell, finally," Arthur muttered, panting a bit heavily. He'd been in charge of getting their oldest son, Alfred, situated, which was not an easy task—both parents could admit that, since Alfred was their most hyper, defiant child.

Francis turned to his husband and cocked an eyebrow. "Are you sure you want to drive the first half, cher?"

"I'm sure," Arthur replied immediately, firmly.

"Okay, okay."

And with that, the duo hopped into their respective seats, and Arthur started up the car. They were going on a road trip to see Arthur's older brother, who lived sixteen hours away—so, to say the least, they had a long trip ahead of them.

Not even a half-hour on the road and the couple were already bickering about something rather petty. Arthur wanted to play rock and punk music while on the road, while Francis wanted to listen to his typical classical. "I'm the one who's driving; I should decide what music we should play," Arthur said stubbornly, switching the radio back to the rock station.

Francis made a tsk-tsk noise. "Oh, c'mon—no one here besides you likes that heavy rock garbage."

Arthur scowled, his hands gripping the steering wheel even tighter as he tried to keep his focus on the road. "First of all," he began, "it's not garbage. Second, the kids enjoy it."

Francis, skeptical, turned his head to see just how true this was. Matthew, for one, was fast asleep already, his head dangling out of his car seat; Michelle had her head bent down and her hands cupped over her ears. Alfred seemed to be the only one 'enjoying' the music; he was bobbing his head up and down lightly to the beat.

"Arthur, two out of the three of our kids seem to hate it," Francis said, turning back to his husband.

Arthur grunted. "Well, I don't know what to say then," he answered, a bit quietly.

Francis paused for a few minutes. "Well," he finally said, "how about we just turn the radio to a station neither of us listens to." He leaned his hand forward and did so, landing on a country music station.

Francis actually found the song playing quite good and catchy, and began to hum and snap along to the lyrics. Arthur stayed stoic, just focusing on his driving. Francis eventually started singing along to the cheesy lyrics about girls and red trucks and farms and bumped Arthur's shoulder as he danced along, trying to get the Brit to join in, or at least smile.

Arthur glanced at his husband out of the corner of his eye and, sure enough, Francis saw a small grin and eventually a chuckle crack through.

"Dance with me, cher, dance!" Francis urged.

Arthur continued to chuckle, and finally he relented, shaking his hips a little as he drove off an exit.

"Hey!" Francis exclaimed excitedly, laughing and patting Arthur's shoulder.

"This song is quite catchy," the green-eyed man admitted.

"Nice dancing music, oui?" Francis added.

"I love you, frog," Arthur said then, a bit suddenly.

Francis perked up at that, his eyes growing a bit softer. "I love you too, cher." He leaned forward to kiss the man, who gladly accepted.

In the back seat, little Alfred and Michelle (and Matthew, who was just waking up, rubbing at his small eyes) watched this interaction between their parents with wide-eyed curiosity. Their dads were definitely a unique couple, that was for sure. "Um," Alfred started, not knowing exactly how to get their attention, but willing to try, "Daddy?"

No response—the two men just continued to sing and giggle together.

Alfred tried again. "Daddy? Papa?"

"What is it, Alfred?" Arthur finally responded, almost robotically.

"Can we get McDonald's?"

"No—Wendy's," Alfred heard Matthew grumble from the opposite end of the backseat. Even in his half-asleep state, he was still willing to argue with his older brother.

Another minute of giddy giggling. "Sure, sure Alfred," Arthur replied nonchalantly and almost subconsciously.

Alfred gasped in both surprise and delight, grinning from ear to ear. If his parents acting like this was enough to get him McDonald's, then they should definitely be like this more often.

It wasn't until a few minutes later that the country station cut to advertisements and Arthur had realized what he'd actually told his son; though, he couldn't back out at that point, so he, rather unwillingly, drove to a McDonald's.

There was at least one very happy camper on the way there.

[emoryinaboat]

FrUk Headcannons

- When they got together everyone thought they'd finally stop fighting. Ahahahahaha no. If anything, it's only worse because this time there's domestic issues brought up and way too much information that no one feels comfortable hearing.

- As much as they'll try to deny it, they're the most domestic couple on the planet when they visit eachother. Francis cooks dinner while Arthur reads or does his embroidery, they eat dinner together, Arthur washes up, neither of them have the attention span to watch a movie together so they basically just cuddle and make out the whole length of it, they go to the bedroom.

- Speaking of movies, despite the fact neither of them can watch a movie all the way through unless they're really into it (Arthur's addiction to Harry Potter and hour-long Sherlock episodes.) but the battles over who chooses the movie are long and brutal. They spend more time arguing over what movie to watch than actually watching the damn movie. Things have been thrown on several occasions.

- Antonio and Gilbert tease the everloving hell out of Francis after he tells him he's dating Arthur. They don't fricking stop. "*siiigh* Arthur's so cute~" "-through a mouthful of chips- Didn't you used to say he was annoying and stuff-?" "sHUT UP GILBERT."

- They are so, so, so fucking loud when they're having sex, like to a surprising extent. It's all well and good for them, but not so much for others. It's alright when they're at Arthur's house because his place is isolated and don't have any close neighbours. Francis, however, lives in an apartment so they get exasperated looks from the people around Francis' place quite often.

- People had bet on them getting together. If, when, how, who asked, half the other countries were in on it. So much money was lost and won the day it got out...

- The only, o n l y, thing Arthur can make is small tartlets and pastries. Francis hates to admit that they're almost as good as his own. Almost.

- Francis is more PDA and Arthur hates that, but by themselves Arthur is so fucking clingy. Like the 'sits in Francis' lap facing him with his arms around his neck and legs around his back' clingy.

- Random physical affection out of the blue can sometimes tick Arthur off so Francis has to be really sweet to get Arthur into a softer mood and relax. Lots of sweet words, charming smiles and hand kisses.

- When they're drunk together they dance in the living room in their underwear while they laugh and continue to drink until they collapse.

- Arthur stares at Francis a lot. In his head he's admiring how pretty he is and how perfectly he seems to do everything and how its weird that he never let himself notice it before. To Francis it's terrifying because Arthur has Resting Bitch Face and it feels like he's about to be murdered.

- Francis compliments himself in the mirror more than he compliments Arthur (not that that isn't already an ungodly amount). This has resulted in Arthur having the habit of compliment fishing for every little thing he does. Artie's spoilt.

- When Arthur told Alistair that he was dating Francis, Alistair begged Francis to reconsider for Francis' sake.

- They're mean. They're really hurtful in their arguments and sometimes they have to leave the house for a few days to blow off steam. A couple of times one of them have really crossed a line and all the anger immediately left the situation after they both realize what was said. Either way, they apologize and try to make it up to eachother after every serious fight.

- They're sore losers and hate being one-upped. This also translates into their relationship. In anything, cooking (Francis has long since won), affection, romance, sex, literally everything.

- When they're cuddling or Arthur falls asleep on Francis' chest or something, Francis starts absent-mindedly braiding his hair while he plays with it. He sometimes falls asleep while he does this and then Arthur wakes up with Francis out cold and like 16 little braids in his hair.

I hope this is okay I love these old men so much. This is for @makirolls19 thanks for the request!

[thatsamericano]

My Missing Puzzle Piece

Pairings/Characters: America/Romano, with background FrUK and FACE Family and mentioned Cankraine. Human AU.

Ratings/Warnings: Teen, for cursing. No warnings.

Word Count: 1564

Summary: According to the words written on his arm, Alfred will initially be more of a nuisance than a hero to his soulmate, but he’s eager to meet them regardless.

A/N: Written for @aphrarepairweek2021​, Day 5 “soulmate.” Title taken from “Teenage Dream” by Katy Perry.

Alfred woke up on the morning of his sixteenth birthday more excited than he’d ever been. He was getting closer to adulthood, and like all teenagers on their sixteenth birthday, he would finally be able to read the first words his soulmate would ever say to him on his arm.

He ran into the bathroom, turned on the light and read what his soulmate had to say to him. Or to be more accurate, he tried to read it. At least it was in the same alphabet he was used to, unlike Mattie, who had woken up three days ago with a Cyrillic script on his arm. But it obviously wasn’t English.

Che cazzo di problema hai?! Mi hai fatto inciampare, stupido stronzo!

From what he could tell, his soulmate was having some kind of problem with a stupid person.  That wasn’t an ideal situation in which to meet the fated love of your life, but Alfred, optimistic as always, spun it in a positive direction. He smiled as he thought of rescuing his soulmate from whatever stupid person was bothering them, showing off how cool and heroic he was, and impressing them so much that they fainted right into his arms, just like Superman had met Lois Lane. It would be totally epic!

His hopes for a heroic, comic book worthy meeting were dashed a few days later. On the morning of his birthday, Alfred explained his soulmate tattoo to his curious family, and his Papa Francis was able to determine that he probably had Italian on his arm. The following week, their other dad, Arthur, brought Alfred and his brother to a language learning center in order to have their tattoos assessed by the specialists working there. After knowing the language written on their arms, they would begin receiving tutoring in their soulmate’s language.

The expert in Slavic languages was able to determine that Matthew had Ukrainian on his arm. His soulmate had lost their cat and was asking Matthew for help. Matthew’s new language tutor took him into another room for his first lesson, and then it was Alfred’s turn to be assessed. When the Italian instructor, a balding, middle-aged man who introduced himself as Mr. Moretti, read what was on Alfred’s arm, he started chuckling.

“What’s so bloody funny?”

Mr. Moretti addressed Alfred rather than his father. “Your soulmate is annoyed with you. And they weren’t exactly polite about it.” He explained what the tattoo said. The “stupid person” (asshole, really) they were having a problem with was Alfred, who had apparently made them fall over, and his soulmate was wondering what the fuck was wrong with them.

“Oh.” Alfred frowned down at the desk he was sitting at. “When I saw that they had a problem, I was kind of hoping I could be their hero. Does this mean my soulmate’s gonna hate me forever?”

Mr. Moretti smiled sympathetically at him. “That’s generally not how it works. But helping you learn as much Italian as you can before you meet your soulmate will probably go a long way to smoothing things over.”

After that, Alfred said goodbye to his dad, who promised to pick him up later, and started his first lesson in Italian. He learned how to say “I’m sorry,” and how to tell his soulmate what his name was.

Nearly two years later, Alfred had graduated high school without meeting his soulmate or bumping into any other Italians. Matthew hadn’t met any Ukrainians looking for their missing cat either, so instead of a more traditional graduation present, Alfred and Matthew asked to go on a trip to the places where they would be more likely to meet their soulmates. First, they would visit Italy for a couple weeks, and then they would go to Ukraine so Mattie could get a chance to meet his soulmate.

After flying into Naples, Alfred was eager to immediately go out and explore the city on the off chance that he might meet his soulmate. The rest of his family, however, was exhausted by the long flight and insisted on checking into the hotel so they could catch up on their sleep and adjust to the time difference. Alfred went along grudgingly.

The next morning, after a quick breakfast at the hotel, Alfred, his dads, and his brother all left to go sightseeing. They’d visited the ruins of Pompeii and had been wandering around the Piazza del Plebiscito for a while when his Papa brought up the idea of stopping to get lunch.

“I think we should give it another half hour. Statistically, I’m more likely to run into my soulmate out here than in a restaurant.”

Matthew laughed. “You’re actually objecting to the idea of eating? That’s not like you, Al.”

Alfred pouted at his brother’s teasing. “I just want to meet my soulmate,” he muttered.

“Perhaps if you could tell us your type, it would narrow down the search a little, mon chou,” his papa suggested.

Alfred thought it over. “I don’t think I have a type. I hope they’re around my age so we can be together for the rest of our lives, but other than that, I’ll like my soulmate for whoever they are.” Matthew was fairly sure his soulmate would be a girl, but he was open to other possibilities. Alfred had no gender preferences, so it could theoretically be anyone.

His dad sighed. “So the plan is to walk around this city aimlessly until some Italian calls you an arsehole.”

Alfred glanced behind him to speak to his dad. “Pretty much.”

“And if they’re not here?”

“Then we’ll wander around aimlessly somewhere else in Italy. And then, if that doesn’t work, we’ll go to another town, until I meet whoever it is I’m supposed to—”

Alfred was interrupted in the middle of talking to his dad by a body colliding into his. He heard a startled oof, then whirled around to see a brunet man falling to the ground. He managed to avoid faceplanting on the pavement by throwing out his hands at the last minute, then quickly scrambled to his feet.

Alfred knew Italian pretty well for an American kid who had a French and English parent. He knew that in this situation he should say mi dispiace or ask him ha bisogno di aiuto, but Alfred couldn’t get his mouth to work. His heart was beating too fast, his stomach was filled with butterflies, and he’d scoffed at the idea of love at first sight so many times before, but he couldn’t explain his reaction any other way.

The stranger he’d knocked over because he hadn’t been paying attention to where he was going was beautiful.

Of course, he started yelling at him, with that phrase Alfred had first learned nearly two years ago and that was now making his arm tingle with recognition. The stranger was glaring at him, but Alfred was too mesmerized by his gorgeous hazel eyes to feel intimidated. He was gesturing furiously, but Alfred was awestruck by how cute it was.

He was grinning by the time the stranger had finished ranting at him, and he said the only thing he could think of. “God, you’re perfect.”

Alfred’s soulmate’s eyes widened, and he grabbed onto his right arm in disbelief. Alfred laughed and went over to hug him. But he was too exhilarated from hugging his soulmate to stay still. Alfred picked him up and spun him around. His soulmate hissed at Alfred to put him down, but he ended up clinging to Alfred’s neck in a way that suggested he didn’t really want to let go.

By the time he set him back down on his feet, his soulmate was blushing and smiling a little in spite of himself. Alfred beamed. “You’re the cutest person I’ve ever seen!” He turned towards his amused family. “Isn’t he the cutest person you’ve ever seen?”

Matthew chuckled. “Alfred, you might want to find out his name before you start telling us about him.”

“Oh right.” Alfred cleared his throat. “Mi chiamo Alfred. Lei… come si chiama?”

His soulmate snickered at him. Maybe it should’ve bothered him that he was being made fun of, but Alfred was too focused on how adorable he was and how much he wanted to kiss him. “Your accent sounds ridiculous,” he explained. “And my name is Savino.”

“Well, Savino, I’ve got the rest of my life to get better at it. Especially if I have you to help me.”

Savino’s lips twitched up into a grin. “I’m willing to give it a shot.”

Alfred introduced his soulmate to his brother and dads then mentioned that he and his family had been thinking about getting lunch before Alfred ran into him. He asked Savino if he would like to join them for lunch.

“I know a place not too far from here. I’ll take you there.”

Savino linked his hand with Alfred’s and started to lead them forward confidently across the piazza. Alfred snuck glances at his soulmate’s face and squeezed his hand, marveling at how right it felt to hold Savino’s hand, and how right it felt to be with him, even if he was only beginning to get to know him. The piece of his life he hadn’t even known he’d been missing was guiding him through a foreign city, and now Alfred felt complete.

[rein-ette]

I'd be interested to hear some of your headcanons on engport. PS: I love your blog, you really have made it very cute and elegant.

Thank you!!! I'm glad you like it :3 I wasn't sure what hcs you were looking for, so I just did a random collection of ones I haven't seen around. If you wanted more of a narrative of their relationship or something, lemme know.

1. I mentioned this hc here, but I really like the idea of Portugal bringing Arthur gifts from all over the world, not in the way someone does to deliberately woo a lover (although as they got older there was a certain undertone of that that they laughed about), but more like the way a cat brings back dead birds and stuff; it’s just cuz they love you and wanna feed you and take care of you and share their precious things with you. Port started doing this when they first met, and originally it was just bringing him a pretty stone or a little wildflower. The one thing Arthur truly yearned for, however, were books. I think Arthur is someone who truly loves learning and intellectual pursuits, but because of his upbringing and work he was never able to go university until the late 1600s.The best ones during the Middle Ages, in any case, were located around the Mediterranean, especially in Italy, as well in the Abbasid Caliphate. So when port started sailing further, he would try to bring Arthur copies of texts such as the Continens Liber, the Canon of Medicine, the Trotula (all medical texts) as well as texts on foreign flora and books like The Book of Knowledge of Ingenious Mechanical Devices by Islamic scholar Ismail al-Jazari, which featured machine automation! In the 13th century!!! These manuscripts were probably harder to find than most jewels or trinkets and Port had to translate the ones in Arabic for Arthur — and secretly, because the inquisition was like, kinda a thing during this time — but it was worth his delight and absolute adoration. These are all, by the way, real books that existed or eventually made their way to and had a great influence on Europe!

2. I don't know why, but I love the idea of Port having a masters degree in English Literature from Oxford. I think his personality is just suitable: thinks unnecesarily deeply about things, sees symbolism in everything, loves playing devil's advocate. He must have gotten it recently as well, since eng lit wasn't a thing in unis until the mid 1800s and Port and Arthur's relationship didn't normalize until after 1974. Anyways yeah, I think Port did it in part because he genuinely likes english literature, and in part because it was a semi-valid way of getting off work and he could spend a year with Arthur. Plus a hot Portuguese man with an Oxford eng lit degree is like, catnip for Arthur.

3. Also a fruk hc, but: England owns a little house on a hill, overlooking the ocean in Calais, France. He’s had it since he owned the entire port of Calais back in the day and it’s kinda of safe house, a place where he can escape and read books and fiddle with his potions and magic and flowers and just be happy. Only a few people know it exist/have been there, and only Francis has ever been inside, when he spent 2 years recovering there during the latter half of WWII (this is stolen directly from newamsterdam's For the Dust to Still Series, which I am forever obsessed with). Despite it being a “special place” for Arthur and Francis, the front gardens are filled with lavender, which Arthur only started planting and tending to in the 20th century. When they lived there together, during the war, Arthur would sometimes just sit silently amidst the flowers. Francis never commented on it.

4. For a more modern hc, when they go on holiday Arthur and Port like to go surfing (mostly Port), freediving, and sometimes scuba diving — and pls don’t hit me with the “Arthur can’t swim”, mans a Type A personality and control freak, and you’re telling me he’s gonna spend his life on the open sea without knowing how to swim? Nah. And no one can tell me that Port doesn’t want see the fishies on the coral reef any chance he gets either. That’s his habitat. When they don’t have time to go abroad they have aquarium dates like the sappy little losers they are. Port has a membership at the Oceanário de Lisboa, because of course he does. They've also gone wreck diving at least twice -- it unsettles them both a little, because they can easily imagine themselves going down with the ship, as well as the men who must have died too -- but that also seems like the kind of emotional masochism those two idiots would be into.

5. Not a relationship hc, but neither of them are afraid of animals. Arthur dislikes big ass spiders, but isn't petrified. Port has no fear at all. At times this has caused a genuine issues.

[olympeline]

FrUK FACE family Parent Trap AU, part 6! Part 1

Last time we watched Alfred go home with Francis and get his first taste of Matthew’s life in Quebec. Now it’s Mattie’s turn. Let’s see how it would go for him and Arthur in New York:

It’s a quick trip home on the subway, and then they’re in the Kirklands’ apartment. A middle sized place by NYC standards, in a big block, high up near the top. Everything is super concentrated and crammed together like the inner part of any big city. Space is at a premium, so the normal folk live like sardines. Matthew is used to his wide open suburbs, so it’s a bit of a shock. He likes Arthur and Alfred’s apartment, though. It’s cosy and very lived in. A colourful clash and blend of Alfred and Arthur’s strong personalities. Very little style compared to the Bonnefoys’ immaculately interior designed home, but charming nonetheless. Matthew is drinking all the new sights in, when Arthur goes through to the kitchen and says he’ll make them something to eat. He’s expecting “Alfred” to go jump into gaming or rush to see his friends that live in their block, so he’s surprised when Matthew hovers in the kitchen doorway instead. Arthur asks if he wants to help, Mattie says “Sure, dad!” (Dad. Dad! This is my other dad! - Matthew, dizzily to himself) and Arthur is again surprised, but also pleased. Seems his boy has matured during his last trip to camp. He does seem a little different.

So, they get to work and Matthew has a hard time keeping up his Alfred-sona because oh dear, oh dear. Alfred was not kidding when he said his their dad was super bad at cooking. Matthew feels his French reared soul dying a thousand deaths as he watches Arthur prep their dinner. He wants to help out and offer advice but it would be too suspicious. So he focuses on talking to Arthur instead. Arthur tuts and grumbles about various things (mostly work and people he knows), but also cracks funny jokes - often at his own expense - and makes Matthew laugh. He has a surprisingly wicked sense of humour under his stuffiness, it seems.

Then the food is done, they sit down to eat, and…

“How is it, Al?”

“………..Fine, dad. Good. Real good. (🥲🥲🥲🥲)”

“Really? That’s good. I think I’m getting better. What do you think?”

“Yeah. Yeah. For sure! (🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲)”

It’s the worst thing Matthew’s eaten in his entire life. But he chokes it down with a big, Alfred style smile. It’s worth it to see Mr. Kirkland Arthur his other dad smile back. It’s also worth choking down the “food” because Matthew can keep talking to Arthur while they eat. He has an easier time of it than Alfred did because Arthur expects “Alfred” to talk and talk like it’s going out of fashion. Mattie can be as enthusiastic as he likes, asking all about what happened in NYC while he was away. Arthur answers all his questions, asks some of his own about camp, then brings up Antonio. And Matthew’s stomach sinks. Arthur tells him Tony is away for work, but he’ll be back soon. Mattie tries to feel enthusiastic about meeting him, but he can’t quite manage it. Alfred says Uncle Tony is nice (even if he thinks Arthur doesn’t love him) but Mattie just doesn’t want him around. Who knows how long he’ll have with Arthur before they’re found out. He wants every minute with his long lost dad to himself. Then poor Matthew feels bad about thinking this way because he’s a sweetheart and doesn’t want to be selfish. Poor guy’s a sufferer of catholic guilt without the catholicism, I tell ya. It’s one of the things about Mattie that Francis worries about and has the most sleepless nights over.

After dinner, Arthur had planned on getting some work done while Alfred goofed off with his games and/or neighbor friends. But Mattie sticks with him to wash up, then hovers again. Arthur is starting to feel a little worried (maybe Alfred felt more homesick than usual this year?) so he says: hang the work, they should spend some time together instead. It’s too late to go out, so they flop in front of the TV for some good old fashioned binge watching. Mattie sits shyly by his dad, close as he dares, and joins in the distracted chatter as they flip between various shows until they end up on The Great British Bake Off. A favorite in the Kirkland household. Arthur likes it because it reminds him of home and gives him “inspiration” for his - ahem - culinary efforts. Alfred likes it because sometimes they drop things. Matthew has never seen it before but soon he’s hooked. He finds himself wondering what Francis would think of it.

Suddenly, a stab of homesickness. Matthew must have tensed up, because he feels Arthur put his hand on his shoulder and give it a squeeze. Mattie looks up at Arthur and the latter gives him a reassuring smile.

“Back home now, Al.”

Is all Arthur says, but it’s enough. Matthew feels a lump in his throat and, when Arthur looks away again, Mattie has to quickly blink back another attack of “hayfever.” He misses Francis, but now he has Arthur too. Suddenly he can hardly believe what’s happening. Where he is, who he’s talking to. It all feels like a dream. One he’s waited for his whole life without realising it.

How is this all going to play out? Matthew doesn’t know. But he does know one thing: he’s so glad he came.

(That’s it for now. Stay tuned for part 7! (´ε｀ )♡)

[wherearemyglassesbro]

Mhmhmhmh. Fruk Mermaid AU Headcanons?

For MerMay!!!!! :D

//THIS IS MAKING ME LAUGH SO HARD THIS ASK IS FROM EARLY MAY I AM SO SORRY 😂😂

What if...Art’s just a normal mermaid and Fran’s a siren??

Fran’s like ‘watch this!!!’ And he lures a pirate into the water and kills him and Art is like what the ffuuuccckk????

Fran was alienated from his clan of sirens so he’s just a wanderer now but Art found him and kinda just decided to be his friend

Their customs are very different

Arthur gives Fran clams and pretty shells as gifts to say ‘hey I like you!’

And then Fran gives him dead fish and severed hands of pirates :) so romantic

There’s a huge learning curve tbh because they have such different backgrounds

“Wow...that’s a pretty big ship, huh?” “Mhm” “I’d love to see what’s up there...” “I can tell the captain to sink it for you” “N-no!!! Don’t do that!!” “Why not :(“

Art is a very beautiful merman!! His tail is pretty and he has patterns on his skin, mermaids are always beautiful to look at and he’s no exception

Fran is handsome for a siren but...in mermaid standards he’s scary. He’s got sharp teeth and spines on his tail and his eyes glow all creepy like at night. Truthfully, he freaks out the people in Art’s mermaid clan

Fran isn’t very active during the day cause the sun hurts his eyes but he’ll stay up in order to hang around Art :)

Arthur has a collection of shiny human things! Wedding rings, watches, a cell phone, three pairs of bedazzled sunglasses, an empty can of spray on sunscreen and a pocket mirror. He keeps them all in a plastic Whole Foods bag he found! Fran keeps those things tucked away in his cave so they won’t be stolen

^^Fran lives just outside the mermaid village thing just cause he scares everyone. He’s got a cave! Yay caves!

They’ve had a good influence on eachother :)

[koolkat9]

FrUk Week 2021: Day 5

@hetaliashipsweek

Prompt: Nyo/2p

Pairing: 2pFruk

Word Count: 906

Author’s Note: Before I begin I’m still working out my characterization for 2pFrance and this is my first time doing something with him so it may not be the strongest. Still, enjoy!

The Good and the Bad

“Love...Are you awake?” Oliver whispered, arms wrapping around the waist of the man beside them.

Louis sighed. Of course, he was awake. He was lucky if he fell asleep by 3 AM and currently it was only midnight. Oliver on the other hand usually fell asleep right away so what was he doing up so late? “What’s wrong mon ange?” Louis asked rolling over to face his lover. 

“I can’t seem to get comfortable. What are you still doing up?”

Another stupid question. Both he and Oliver knew it. “I’m not having much luck either,” Louis replied tiredly, “you know how it is.”

The Brit hummed in understanding beside him, snuggling closer. “Maybe after a snack, we’ll be tired.”

Leave it up to Oliver to think with his stomach. It was always sweets with him too which made the matter even worse. That suggestion would probably end up keeping them up instead of falling asleep. But maybe Oliver wasn’t too far off the mark with his proposal. “How about some warm milk instead?” Louis recommended.

Oliver’s face lit up at the suggestion. “That sounds lovely.”

---

Warm milk in hand, the two lovers settled themselves on the couch in the living room. Oliver was adamant about putting on some relaxing music and wrapping themselves in a wooly blanket to ‘get them in the mood.’ Louis could only agree as he began swaying along to the music, finding the melody quite calming. 

As they drank, Oliver began discussing his day. How the old lady next door gave him a few cookies this morning when he was heading to work, the growing political tensions among parliament, the dog he got to pet during his lunch break. Oliver had a knack for talking though sometimes he overran the conversation. At first, Louis found it annoying and overwhelming, but as time went on, the Frenchman appreciated Oliver’s ability to carry a conversation as he himself lacked such skill. Not to mention, The Englishman's voice had become a source of comfort in recent years. Louis found himself leaning against Oliver, his milk now finished and on the table. Though he had a hard time admitting to it, he wanted to cuddle.

Luckily, Oliver caught on and after downing the rest of the milk, he laid himself on the couch and opened his arms to Louis. The Frenchman hesitantly accepted the invitation, laying himself on top of the Brit. 

“Are you alright darling?” Oliver asked, his hand combing through Louis’ hair. “Ouais...Just don’t stop talking.” 

Oliver let out a light laugh, turning Louis’ cheeks pink. “Okay.” Oliver continued to run his hands through his lover’s hair. "Goodness, I miss your long hair.” Louis shrugged. “I like it short. It's practical and less in the way.”

“Yeah but…”

“If you like long hair so much, why not grow your’s out?”

Oliver pouted. “But that’s not the same.”

Louis leaned up and kissed him, hoping it would make his lover smile. It did. Affection always did. “So…” Oliver said cheerfully, “how was your day?”

Oh, so they were doing this. A two-way conversation. Louis panicked slightly. How was his day? If he was being honest, he didn’t remember most of it, the hours passing by like a blur. He hadn’t done much. He rarely ever did when Oliver wasn’t home. He just never had the energy or the motivation as everything seemed pointless in the end. He made a mental note to call the therapist in the morning before he began spiraling again. Oliver didn’t deserve that and Louis himself was starting to accept that he didn’t deserve that either.

“No pressure or anything,” Oliver added as if he knew exactly what Louis was thinking. They did fit well together. The thought was enough to put Louis at ease once more. “Maybe we could do that one good thing and one bad thing about our day thingy! I’ll go first. One bad thing, hmm. I guess having trouble sleeping counts. But a good thing was that lovely bouquet of flowers I got from a special someone today at the end of lunch.”

A small smile made its way onto Louis’ face. He had ordered those flowers yesterday as a surprise for Oliver since the man had been working overtime in the recent weeks as he vigorously went through document after document. He was glad to hear Oliver liked them and that they were the highlight of his day. “Now your turn.”

Louis took in a breath. “Okay let's see... bad...Gosh, I’m going to sound so pathetic but...Not having you around...got kind of lonely you know?” A gentle smile spread across Oliver’s face. “Oh love, you’re not pathetic for thinking that. I missed you too. Now, how about that good thing?”

“The wonderful dinner you made. Though, your cooking is always the highlight of my day.”

“Aww thank-” Oliver’s words were cut off by a yawn, “thank you.”

“I think we’re ready for bed,” Louis stated, climbing off Oliver.

“Mhm. If we need to talk some more though, we can.”

Louis smiled. Cupping the Brit’s cheeks in his hands, Louis pressed a soft, loving kiss on Oliver’s lips. “I love you," Louis murmured as they parted, “so, so much.”

“I love you too my darling.”

Taking hold of Louis’ hand, Oliver guided Louis to the bedroom where the two of them were quickly met with sleep, wrapped up in each other’s arms.