#i missed drawing fruk :')

[eveistdiepommes]

Save me British man….. save me……

[checkpointcherry]

furry fruk because i missed drawing them

[floralcrematorium]

thoughts about the asian characters(easia, seasia, south asia, west asia)!! do you have future plans to draw any of them?

YES!!!

literally the only thing stopping me is that i cannot draw men. i’ve been pushing myself recently with the fruk sketch and i actually had started a little drawing for Piri from the ask game a while ago, but I haven’t finished him yet. gave him a really cunty pose but can’t figure out what clothing i want to stick him in 🤔

i’ve got quite a few unfinished sketches lying around, notably of miss vietnam, but i’ll release this little concept of miss taiwan from my band au, lest i fear she will never see the light of day:

i don’t think i’m gonna stick with this outfit for band au, i was just kinda fucking around and finding out. i really just wanted an excuse to draw some flowy fabric with all of her movement but didn’t want to cover up her whole body with a dress. i was listening to “hot to go” while drawing this and you can tell

i’ve been putting off drawing china for a hot minute. he’s been a favorite of mine for a long time, but i’m unsure of what i want to do with him. i don’t have any ships for him and when i do draw him, i want to make sure he turns out fantastic. i feel like i can’t get my other two favorites, france and norway, right and am so scared of having yet another fav that i just can’t draw the way i envision them

i’ve had the idea of doing a series of illustrations with piri and food for a hot minute now. more so comics than standalone illustrations, but i digress. i’ve been wanting to learn more filipino recipes because until some of my family members were interested in learning more about their culture/heritage when i was a teenager, the only pinoy dish my mother could make was pancit. we’d have vietnamese cha gio every now and again, but a lot of my experiences with filipino food are either things i barley remember from church events or family friends’ houses when i was a kid or in that period of exploration when we’d go out to eat at filipino restaurants. not going to get into why i’m not well connected with my heritage on main (it’s complicated and i also chronically gaslight myself into thinking that i’m not allowed to connect with my heritage for a variety of reasons), but i’d like to learn more, and i think the recipe comics would be a good way to do so. i don’t know if or when i’ll get it it, though :( a lot of my drawing comes from a spur of the moment “i have to get this out of my head NOW” and the projects i actually have lined up and planned get pushed further and further back (i am. eyeing the hetagirls art nouveau portraits nervously bc i’m halfway done but haven’t touched that project since april)

food is also just hard as hell to draw, i’ve never been good at it. i did a little triptych in college with filipino food in gouache and it was a disaster

all this said, you Will see an art nouveau portrait of miss taiwan soon. soonish. she’s meant to be after czechia, but the whole art nouveau portraits thing came to a stop because i can’t figure miss czechia out, so i may just skip straight to taiwan. also been wanting to do that “draw SEAtalia in your style” template for a hot minute. hell, i never did the DTIYS template i made for china (or france) because i’m just really bad at starting the things i want to do 😭 i make things feel too precious in my head and then get worked up when they don’t turn out right

anyway, TLDR i am dying to draw more piri in the future. ideally i’d like to draw everyone at least once, but piri has my attention. and miss vietnam — i hold a soft spot for her too

thanks for the ask!

[thathetaliablogg]

Ggggrrr, i like the idea of Stalker Francis.

I love a good childhood besties who have grown apart but when they're older they have their "oh shit I'm in love" moment w the other already having a rocky relationship w someone else

I also love the friends w benefits w the bitter angst if both (or preferably 1 of them) wanting a serious relationship but not being able to ask for it so they just hide their feelings and continue how they are because they would rather have that than lose their love

(incoming the angst, you opened the bottle and i fucking love angst)

There is also a good type where the relationship didn't work out but they miss each other and want to try again but their first try was so toxic so it becomes a "the one that got away" type of situation

My faves are the ones where one dies of whatever reason, terrible accident, wrong place at wrong time, some form of illness of health issue and the other is forced to live without them but the heartache is eating at them

Rejection AUs stab my heart w a knife just the right way

Ooh ooh, lately I've been into infidelity/cheating+ one sided relationship+ losing the best thing you had because you were stupid type of trope and having to see your ex happy w someone else while seeing that their new partner is giving them the attention and love the ex couldn't give (France being a cheater and stupid is my fave flavor)

I could honestly go on and i might just write one of these for Whumptober/Fictober because i need to feed myself 😭

Yes, you are right, there are so many flavours ti FrUk, any trope fits them perfectly

~izzy

PLSSSSSSSS ALL OF THESE ARE SO GOOD UGHHH THIS GAVEME SO MANY IDEAS.... I WISH I WAS BETETR AT DRAWING ANGSTY STUFF LIKE THIS BC ID DO SOOOOO MUCH......

Omg omg combine this with the stalker Francis idea like what if Francis is stupid and cheats on Arthur, Arthur finds out and breaks up with him and starts dating someone else (probably Port in my head) and Francis. CANNOT. get over it. ooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

But these are all SOOOO GOOD HONESTLY UGHGJHGJKH

[arosvolturi]

Lovebirds.

[ifindus]

Steampunk/Pirates for the first day of @aphfrukweek

Reminded me again of my fic Sky Pirates that I'm still writing the sequel for 😞

[asahishinohara-has-moved]

I say...

I fucking miss FrUK.

[rebelsandtherest]

Hey There, Stranger

A FrUK drabble Word count: 2020 (I swear to GOD I did not plan that) Summary: In some hopeful future, the pandemic wanes toward a final close, and an Englishman crosses the channel to visit a very old friend. Both are surprised by who they find waiting for them in Calais, but what is a thousand years of companionship, really, if you can't occasionally be strangers? Warnings: Strong language and a lot of Old Man Bilingual Bickering

As I told @draw-a-circle-thats-the-foxhole​, this is the first time I’ve written anything even vaguely romance-adjacent in years. I hope it’s not too corny.

------------------

The actual travel time between Folkstone and Calais was a scant half hour; the lines for customs were considerably longer. From his place in the queue, Arthur leaned out of his demarcated lane to see how much further he had yet to go; it was nearly as long as it had been when he checked fifteen minutes ago.

"Fucking Boris," He grumbled under his breath. An elderly flat-capped gent in front of him turned to glare at the same time as the young man next to him—grandson?—looked up from his iPhone to snort. As the old man diverted his glare towards his grandson, the teen met eyes with Arthur and tipped his head in camaraderie. Arthur shrugged back in a 'am I wrong?' gesture.

There had been a time when the name and unique crest on Arthur's passport would have waved him past customs entirely. It hadn't been a very long time, come to think of it, but Christ it had been a glorious few decades. Then again, there had been a time when things like plague had required four weeks of quarantine on a filthy boat anchored a league offshore, instead of something as simple as a covid pass and a face mask, so he supposed he really oughtn't to complain.

After some untold eternity, he was standing at the customs desk and gained immediate rapport with the French agent behind the plexiglass when he greeted him in fluent French and handed him all his papers without prompting. It was the last time Arthur planned on speaking French during his stay if he could possibly help it. He took his passport back and wove his way through the familiar maze of the terminal, now ridden with all manner of stickers on the floor, plexiglass dividers, and hand sanitizer dispensers.

For ten in the morning, the place was crowded; far more crowded than Arthur had expected. Then again, after years of closures, quarantines, and restrictions, once the French and British governments had—finally—blown open their borders once more, it only made sense that people would flock to visit friends and relatives once more.

It was what Arthur was doing, after all. His phone buzzed in his pocket.

Wétu?

I'm in the terminal, Arthur typed back, standing obnoxiously in the middle of the walkway as people parted around him. Where are you?

Are you past the customs border?

Yes of course. It's much busier than I expected.

Je manque aux Anglais :)

You're a twat.

:(

A man bumped into Arthur's shoulder and grumbled at him through a thick Scottish accent. Arthur frowned and readjusted the bag hanging from his shoulder, looking around and realizing there was no real place to stand without being in someone's way. He marched onward in the hopes of finding more space as the exodus from customs cleared.

Seriously, where are you? His thumbs clicked away angrily, I'm in the middle of the bloody path

Ah, already making a nuisance of yourself, it's almost like you never left

You ARE here, aren't you?

No response came, so Arthur shoved his phone into his pocket and found a rubbish bin to stand behind, hoping it would shield him from the flood of humans. He stood on tip toes and craned his neck, looking around every which way, but all he could see was facemasks and suitcases.

"If you're trying to throw yourself away," said a cheeky French accent behind him, and goddamnit Arthur would never admit it, but he'd missed what it sounded like in person, "I believe you qualify for l'recyclage, it's just around the corner."

"Nice of you to finally show-" No sooner did Arthur turn around than did the words die on his lips. Beneath his mask, his jaw was open. Loudly, obnoxiously, very Englishly amidst a sea of travelers, he said,

"What the fuck did you do to your hair?!"

People around them started out of surprise and there was one young lady who couldn't stifle her sudden laughter at the outburst. Francis Bonnefoy also laughed, but it had a self-conscious edge to it as he reached up a hand to tuck a strand of short—short—blond hair behind an ear, but it immediately fell back down again.

"What can I say?" the taller man shrugged. "We've all dealt with quarantaine in our own ways"

Arthur did not respond, and set his bag down so he could step forward to touch Francis' hair. Trimmed short in the back—Arthur's brain reeled to process the image of Francis wielding hair trimmers—and left longer in the front, the longest curls of Francis' pride and joy still only reached to the tips of his ears.

"I barely bloody recognize you," Arthur said, no real heat in his voice as he ran his fingers through the golden hair.

"What a very rude thing to say," Francis grumbled, even as he allowed his eyes to close for a moment at Arthur's touch. "As if I am still not the most fashionable person here, amongst all these morne Engl-"

"Wait a moment, wait a bloody moment," Arthur's fingers had trailed down the side of Francis' face, and he grabbed the Frenchman's chin and turned it to see his jaw. "Oh dear god," he pulled on the edge of Francis' facemask to see more of his cheek. "Are you—did you shave?!"

"I cannot keep a beard and wear a mask, it does no good to my skin, surely you—t'attends, quoi?!" It was Francis' turn to reach out his hand to Arthur's face, which was already conveniently turned for Francis to spy the skin between his mask and ear. His fingertips brushed over a dark shade of blond he hadn't seen in eons and yes, it prickled.

"Apparently you don't! Quelle merde, Angelterre?!"

"It's not my fault shaving is such a chore!" Arthur grumbled back, batting Francis' hand away. "No one sees it, anyway!"

"Non non non," Francis reached right back out to his face, "you do not get away with this so easily, I want to see-"

"Hands off, frog!"

"Then stop pulling on my mask, you're going to break it," even as he spoke, Arthur's fingers, still hooked under the edge of Francis' mask, yanked the fabric down so the Frenchman's pointed nose popped out. "Lâche-moi!" But Arthur couldn't have cared less about mask policy, he was staring directly at Francis' upper lip.

"Dear god, you did shave, who are you?"

"As much as you complain about my mustache, I thought you'd be—" Francis cut off and made a spitting noise as his mask got caught up in his mouth, and he struggled to put it to rights with his one free hand. Arthur took the opportunity to tear the mask off completely. Francis looked down at him with annoyance and shock all over his naked face. Arthur took it in for a beat before dissolving in laughter. He reached his hand back out.

"Oh, look at you," He said through his masked smile.

"Oh don't look so smug, rosbif, I have half a mind to—" and so Francis tore off Arthur's mask in one downward yank, exposing the Englishman's smile and his disheveled, full beard. Francis' eyes went wide and, after a moment of shock, he burst out laughing. Both men stood there staring at each other, dissolving in laughter the longer they looked at each other.

"What have you allowed to grow on your face?" Francis managed through his laugh, reaching out to cup Arthur's face in both hands. Though he ought to be insulted, Arthur was still overtaken by chuckling, and he reached up to touch Francis' face in return.

"You look like a child," Arthur mocked, beaming.

"You look like un grand-père," Francis accused through his laughter..

"I haven't seen you with short hair since… Christ, since Napoleon, I think."

"The last time I saw you with a beard, you were wearing chainmail and trying to shoot me in the head."

"Did I succeed?"

"I can't remember," Francis said honestly. "But I've always wondered,"

"Wondered what?" Arthur asked as Francis tugged on his whiskered chin and pulled him into a kiss. As if on reflex, Arthur's eyes fell closed and his hand went up to curl around Francis' neck, fingers scratching at the unfamiliar short hairs there. An arm wrapped around his waist and Arthur would be lying if his heart wasn't soaring from the warmth of being so close after so long. His free hand coiled itself around the lapel of Francis' coat and held him there.

After Francis felt he'd sufficiently reacquainted himself with Arthur's mouth, he pulled away, but stayed close, ignoring the hustle and bustle of the travellers, the overhead announcements, the rumble of luggage, the grumbles of stressed parents and businessmen. Arthur's eyes had always been such an odd shade of green, and they sparked a thousand memories that made the Frenchman feel, for all their long and colorful history, like he was finally home.

"Hmm," he said eventually, tilting his head back enough to regard Arthur's entire face with a satisfied grin. "I guessed right."

"What?" The Brit asked, eyebrows coming down. Francis' insides went soft seeing how red Arthur's face had become.

"It's terribly scratchy," he pronounced, thumb scritching through the blond of Arthur's beard. Arthur scoffed and looked away. "And," the hand at Arthur's back reached around to pinch at his side, "you've gained weight." Arthur's eyebrows were darker than his beard, and they drew down even further and he dropped his hands from Francis entirely.

"You always did know how to make a bloke feel better about himself," he grumbled.

"You were always far too bony, mon cher," Francis chuckled, and pulled the sulking Brit back close to him, "it feels good on you." That made Arthur blush even harder, but he stubbornly refused to look at Francis or reciprocate the hug. Francis only chuckled and leaned in to kiss Arthur's cheek. "And I never said I didn't like scratchy."

"You're a twat," Slowly, as if he didn't think Francis would notice, Arthur brought his arms back up to wrap around the Frenchman's middle.

"So you've said," Francis hugged him properly. "I've missed you, mon coeur," he said earnestly in Arthur's ear. A few centimeters shorter than Francis, Arthur's mouth was always buried in Francis' shoulder unless he tilted up his chin. He made no such effort then, and grumbled something into Francis' shoulder that might have been 'I missed you too'. It made the Frenchman smile.

Eventually they pulled apart, Arthur still pleasantly pink and Francis smiling. "It's been a long time since I took a stranger home with me," Francis waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "What a thrill." Arthur rolled his eyes but smiled all the same.

"It's been a long time since I've had a stranger take me home, I guess you'll have to do." Arthur countered, shouldering his bag and taking Francis' hand in his without comment. "Now where on earth did my mask go?"

"I can't believe you wear those disposable monstrosities, they're hideous."

"They're comfortable."

"And not very environmentally friendly of you—what would Matheiu say?"

"Oh, don't give me that," Arthur dug a spare out of his bag.

"You brought more? Non, I will buy you new ones. Between the mask and the coat, it looks like I dug you out of a gutter."

"What's wrong with my coat?"

"It's from 1972, Arthur."

"You have plenty of things from the 70s."

"And all of them are, as the humans say, vintage. This looks like you dug it up from the darkest corner of a charity shop."

"You're unbelievable."

"And yet you love me."

"I didn't say that."

"But you do."

"Don't try to change the subject, I'll not be staying long if you spend the entire time complaining about my wardrobe."

"But I said I would help you fix it—"

"It doesn't need fixing, you idiot, that's just the point—"

The screech of trains and the rumble of the once-again busy station at Calais drowned out their bickering. They continued bickering even once inside their taxi, having never once let go of the others' hand.

[helozinha-art]

And that’s how Francis’ wish was taken seriously...but maybe not in the way he hoped. Or has it?

~o~

Based on @amybunmain​‘s post, I made a pause on my current project to draw some FrUK cause omg I miss them so much ;w; also the tree and grass tools saved my life on Arthur’s panel

[zu-art]

Cropped FrUK from Patreon ♥

This one was so fun, I missed drawing them aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

[needcake]

end of the year review

Thanks for the tag @spikeface! <3

What fandoms did you create for?

Mostly hetalia 😬 but I did brush up some of the old star trek and captain america wips

How many works did you make this year? Fics (posted on ao3 or tumblr or wherever), edits, gifsets, moodboards, playlists, fanart, vids, meta?

21 Fics + a few prompts that kinda turned into drabbles hehe

What are you most proud of?

My top 5:

1) In this universal river (on-going, hetalia/engport, R18)

2) I held sugar between my fingers, under water (one-shot, captain america/stucky, PG13)

3) The earth devours (on-going, hetalia/engport, R18 for the gore)

4) Timor mortis/Treacherous hearts (complete, hetalia/various, PG-13)

5) We meet in the middle (one-shot, hetalia/engport, fruk, engportfra, R18)

Any stats you wanna tell us about?

Before 2020 I had been on a dry spell for years, not only was I away from fandom I was also not feeling motivated to write at all.

Now ao3 tells me I published over 122k words this year, so I guess the flood gates have opened 😄

What inspired you this year? Any specific works or creators?

Most of all, the research I did for In this universal river (monster project). Every new paper I read turned light-bulbs on in my head XD

As for creators and specific works I would say every fic I read this year and every writer I talked to, I always get more motivated whenever I share my ideas and listen to/read everyone elses.

What’s a piece you didn’t expect to make? Why?

I didn’t plan Old new beginnings like I usually do, my process is usually have an idea -> sketch the plot -> leave it alone for a few days -> come back to it and rewrite, but with that one I had the idea and just started writing. I think it came from a place of missing nightclubs and going out with my friends, finding adulthood to be hella depressing and having a lot of tangled feelings about relationships in general.

And from a place of shipping two idiots 😬

What are you excited to work on next year?

I’m very excited to continue In this universal river, finish The earth devours and to finally publish my old star trek wips!

Tag some people!

@rainbowfruitpastilles @rein-ette @draw-a-circle-thats-the-foxhole @brazilianhotmess-onmain @maivalkov @helian-skies @mr-nauseam @froggi-mushroom @shachaai @hoofae

😊

[hetaliatxtpostz]

Hetalia Shoutouts!

These are Hetalia blogs that I love and adore (from my main/personal account where I reblog everything).

And that, if you're a Hetalia fan, you should check out!

@ashafox Is a great blog that focuses mainly on Canada and has 1) a SUPER cute art style and 2) a ton of AMAZING AUs. I love this blog. I check this blog regularly for updates.

@frukmerunning is hilarious and delightful. She makes a ton of content, and she ships some ships that do not get enough love in this fandom! (And her ask blog is great, too!)

@thedisappointedidealist12 Honestly if you are a Hetalia fan and you don't know this blog you are seriously missing out. The art is incredible, they have the best AUs, and they are one of the best sources for FrUk content in the entire fandom. Seriously. 15/10 could not recommend enough.

@ask-mr-biscuit This is my all-time favorite cosplay blog ever, for any fandom. It's hilarious! The person behind it makes the most delightful facial expressions and they put a lot of work into the blog! If you love England, you'll love this version of him.

@ask-art-student-prussia This blog has such a cute art style!! Their Prussia is awesome, and this is a good place to get AusPrus content. This blog is the source of my all-time favorite Prussia post ever.

@stirringwinds This blog is a bit of a shift from the fun ones tonally, but it's super detail oriented and has some incredible fanfiction. You learn stuff!!! I always like and read all the longer pieces of fiction, and it's always worth it.

@paperdrawsshit This blog has one of the best art styles!!! It's very unique and they have great Spamano content. Like, the best Spamano content. I love all thier AUs and comics. GREAT blog. Cannot stress enough.

@pindanglicious Okay, this is another art blog, and it's a Spuk blog, which is 👌. She has a great art style and I love both her Spain and her England. It's a fun time and I highly, highly recommend.

@historihet Okay, litterally what it sounds like. If you love Hetalia and history you NEED to follow this blog. There's great art, and great writing, and great analysis! All around solid content.

@rebelsandtherest So this blog is one I was only recently aware of, but I LOVE this blog. I also learn here!! They put SO much thought into this blog! Check it out!

@mironepta I cannot stress enough how much I love this art style. It's very unique, and very pretty, and this blog has made some of my all-time favorite Rusame art ever. I always get so excited about every new drawing they make.

@ask-rusame-aph I think this art style is just so cute (and it's a lot like @aliart-k who is also great and maybe this is the same person making both? But I would say follow both.)

@ellmovy Drew my icon picture!!! How could I not give a shout-out!!

[eruden-writes]

Wretched Creature - Part 3

A Beauty and the Beast retelling.

After taking on her father’s punishment, Bellona finds herself imprisoned at a castle with Larek, a man who has an incessant need to self-depreciate himself despite being decently attractive, and a contingent of sentient objects.

Needless to say, it’s a confusing time all around.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

---

At some point, she and Larek began to run into each other. Perhaps he noticed she gravitated toward the library, since - after the first few run-ins - he appeared to visit the books more frequently. Bellona would try to shake him off. There was only so far she could go, though. Eventually, tired of actively trying to avoid him, she'd simply ignore him.

In the library, they'd sit on opposite sides of the room, quietly reading. In the garden, they'd pass each other on the path. Through the castle, they'd gravitate to opposite sides of the corridors. Over time, he edged closer. Asking about her books or informing her about the noteworthy fauna in the garden or history in the castle.

Bellona didn't know when or how it happened, but one day she realized Larek no longer skirted the edges of her day to day life. They'd sit close in the library and linger over books, sharing insights. Larek sometimes surprised her with a succinct observation she never would have considered. Or they'd walk through the garden together, where she taught him to make flower crowns and relayed her late mother's herbal knowledge. On one particularly clear, crisp night, the two even went to the solarium to view the stars and he pointed out constellations she hadn't even known.

The strangeness of the castle soon became her new normal and, oddly, she found herself fitting in. She'd bake and cook with Miss Chai or help Fruk clean the hard-to-reach places in the castle. Often, she'd watch the teacup children, keeping them entertained with stories or what projects they could do.

But Larek's ongoing crusade of how his body was wretched and ugly and useless remained.

One day, while they read together on one of the couches in the library, Larek began complaining. She wasn't even sure what triggered his self-hate. Perhaps something daring he read in his own book, reminding him of his perceived inadequacies. Fed up with his sentiments - taking them somewhat personally, for some reason - she shot back to him, "Should I show you how to love yourself?"

That certainly got his attention. Larek's eyes snapped to her face, wide with momentary shock. Bellona refused to look at him. Her eyes glued to the book in her lap, trying to remain cool as her brain agonized in embarrassment. The expression on his face shifted as his eyes narrowed, an uncertain flush biting at his cheeks. "How, exactly?"

The scant space between them, on the library couch, warmed and sizzled. If a hapless dust mote happened to fall between them, it'd burn up. Bellona pretended to finish her page, before calmly placing her bookmark and closing her book. Her attention slowly turned to Larek. He shifted beneath her eye and, she thought, he was holding his breath. He looked stiff and awkward, like the young men in the village whenever a woman repaid a flirtatious remark. Making a contemplative sound, Bellona set her book aside before bridging the space between herself and Larek.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," she started, trying to keep the smile off her lips as she reached to his cheek. His body heat seared into her fingertips and the pink on his cheeks darkened. "But you're more of a physical learner, aren't you?"

The knot in his throat bobbed as he swallowed, eyes never leaving her face. When he spoke, his words came out in a rasp, "Very much so."

"In that case," Bellona purred, the smile cresting her lips now. Her hands drew to his chest, pressing her palms flat against him. Beneath her touch, his heart thundered. She leaned close, lips brushing his as she spoke, "I should show rather than tell, shouldn't I?"

When their lips met, heat bloomed in her and her eyelids fluttered shut. Bellona leaned further into his heat, feeling his chest rise and fall with excitement as she deepened the kiss. His warm palms pressed to her hips, their positions shifting until she was straddling his lap. A throaty groan left his lips, her hand finding itself buried in his hair and giving him a little tug.

Excitement flashed through Bellona as Larek's hands tightened on her hips, his own bucking up into her. She answered with a little gasp of her own, breaking the kiss. Her eyes flickered open, her mouth returning to his to catch his lower lip between her teeth.

Larek groaned again, deep in his chest and vibrating against her palms, as her nip sunk in. Instead of pulling her closer, his hands pressed to her arms and firmly pushed her back. Her curious look was met with three words that brought chilly displeasure to her gut. "We should stop."

"What?" Suddenly, the delightful heat she'd stoked turned sickly and painful. Her eyes searched his face, wondering if this was a cruel teasing on his part. But a sober seriousness pinched at Larek's features. "Why?"

She hated the fact she sounded so hurt.

It took Larek a moment to answer. His eyes turning away from her, as if to find a physical representation of his excuse. "None of this is fair. Especially not to you."

The heat inside Bellona shifted. It turned from warm and fuzzy to biting and rigid. Her time with him, idling away the days, had nearly made her forget. He was her captor, keeping her in the castle through a deal. How could she forget that? How could she so eagerly kiss him, let alone climb into his lap? Why was she so upset he'd stopped?

Confusion bit at the back of her eyes as she pushed off him. She blinked back the tears, anger whirling around her head. At herself, the situation, Larek.

For once, Larek's tone was hesitant. "Bellona?"

Her name on his lips spurred the rage inside her. She wheeled her hand back, letting it fly through the air until her palm made impact with his cheek. A satisfying SMACK echoed in the library. With her hand stinging, Bellona stormed from the library, leaving Larek behind. His eyes wide and a red hand mark flaming at his cheek.

After the library incident, Bellona ignored Larek. He'd approach and she'd brush passed him. He'd ask about the book she was reading, but she never looked up or she got up and left the room. By the third day, he took the hint and tried to smooth things over. They were sweet attempts - bouquets of wildflowers, baking her a dessert, trinkets from carved wood - and almost melted her cold exterior.

Instead of thawing, his actions ended up cracking her. One morning, while in a sun-dappled garden, she stared at the things Larek had thrust into her arms. A bouquet of flowers - lilies, this time - and something new. A necklace made of bone and carved with delicate designs. Her thumb traced the carefully etched lines as he explained where he'd gotten the materials and bumbled over his reason for making it.

She didn't fully hear him. Her brain was stuck on flowers and sweets and, now, jewelry. Trappings of courtship and mocking ones, at that.

"Stop!" Bellona threw the bouquet and necklace - made of bone decorated by Larek with intricate carvings - back into his face. Clenching her fists, she glared up into the man's face, face ruddy from frustration and confused tears swelling on her lashes. "Stop with all this! This is confusing enough for me, as is."

"What?" The word came out small for someone who liked to pretend to be bigger than he was.

"What happened in the library was a mistake." Her words came out fiercer than she anticipated. Or maybe a subconscious part of her liked how pained Larek looked from her outburst and wanted more. Still, perhaps, she couldn't deny the hurt and confusion making her heart ache. Tears started to stream down her cheeks and, savagely, she wiped them away as they fell. "No matter what, I'm a captive here. Anything developing between us would be wrong."

With her eyes on the ground, Bellona could tell he stared at her. That just made the heat in her flare again. She wanted to scream at him to say or do something. Pride kept her shoulders hunched, palms swiping at her cheeks as more tears fell.

"Go home."

Her head snapped up, brows furrowed as the surprise halted her tears. "What?"

"Go home. See your father." Larek spoke slowly, as if he didn't want to say the words. His gaze locked onto previously offered gifts in his arms. "Return to me when you're ready."

The world felt strangely still to her, though birds fluttered overhead and bugs flitted in the corner of her vision. Her pulse throbbed in her ears, anxious trembles clenching at her stomach. After a deep breath, Bellona asked, "And if that's never?"

He didn't answer right away. His eyes were still on the items in his arms while the knot at his throat bobbed. Finally, he drew his eyes to Bellona's face, expression pinched with an ache she couldn't define. "Then I'll accept that."

---

Moments later, she was in her room, intending to pack to visit her father. But, as she entered the chambers, a voice said she shouldn't have anything to pack. He'd kept her there, against her will. She should have fled the garden and gone straight home.

Numbly, she began gathering items, laying them out atop a blanket she'd later fashion into a bag. A book of pressed flowers, started by she and Larek. Sloppy drawings the teacup children had made. Her own sketches, in a bound book made with Miss Lumi's direction. With the book she was currently reading in hand, she paused.

"You can take that," Causton's clipped tone came from the doorway. Bellona spun, eyes widening as she saw the crowd.

Causton, Miss Lumi, Fruk, Miss Chai and the little teacups, and... more. It surprised Bellona that she could name each one, had grown to know them well. Their expressions ran the gamut from dismal to embittered. A miserable cloud hovered over them, each staring from the hall, none entering her room. Many seemed about ready to say something.

"Bellona, please don't leave. We need you to-" One of the little teacups - Grey -clattered forward, their small voice sounding close to breaking. They were stopped by Miss Chai, tilting her spout to halt their progress.

"I need space from Larek, from here." She turned back to her things, deciding she had what she wanted to keep. Trying not to look at them, she tied the blanket closed, before folding and wrapping until she had a makeshift bag. Did they know what had happened between she and Larek? He seemed to tell them everything. That thought made her stomach spin and, if she hadn't been fighting down tears earlier, now she was. "I'll be back. I just... I need to think."

No more was said as she shrugged on a coat, the spring days still a tinge chilly from winter. She had made her way out of her bedroom and down the hall when one of them spoke again. Again, her heart lurched, closing her eyes to stymie the sudden flood of tears.

"Come back soon," Fruk growled, voice thick with hurt. His words softened as he added, "We're going to miss you."

It took her a moment to reply. Two deep breaths and a swallow, before she half-turned to give the assembled a watery smile. "I'll try."

With that, Bellona hurried down the stairs and out of the castle, refusing to look back again.

[lukatheselkie]

FrUk Week Day Seven - Free Day (Hair)

It took me WELL over 24 hours to decide on exactly what I wanted to do for this. I spent my entire actual seventh day trying to figure it out, and then some. So that’s why this is late. I’m not good with free days lol. But I’m proud of this! They’re so cute! (Also someone please draw France with his hair in the last part 🥺 I’ll love you forever. I would do it but I can’t art unless it’s TINY, a painting, writing, or I take FOREVER.)

    Francis scoffs loudly when he sees Arthur up close for the first time in months. “I can’t come over because I have business to attend to in my country, and you forget how to properly take care of yourself? Unacceptable!” Arthur can’t help but smile. His tone is condescending, but he knows it comes from a place of love. Francis takes his hand, and leads him into his bathroom. “Thank goodness I brought my shampoo. What have you been using?” He looks at the shelves in his shower, and scoffs. “Arthur! Two in one? Really? Must I teach you how horrible that is for your hair again?” He shakes his head, and starts the water for a bath. “I’ll wash your hair for you. I might be able to do something with the horrible state it’s in.” He lets the water run over his wrist for a moment, before plugging the tub after determining it’s a good temperature. “Honestly.” He shakes his head. “Get in. I’ll be right back.” He leaves the room.

    “The shampoo and conditioner you told me to use are too expensive,” he mumbles to the empty room. He glances at his reflection, and grimaces. His hair really does look awful. Maybe he’ll actually start using what Francis said was the best for him. He removes his clothes, carefully setting them aside. He adds a bit of bubbles to the running water, and slips into the bathtub. The hot water immediately starts working on muscles he hadn’t realized were tight. He smiles to himself. Francis must have noticed, and that’s why he started the bath instead of a shower. He’s more observant than most give him credit for. Arthur turns off the water, then tilts his head back and sighs in content. He closes his eyes, relaxing a bit more in the water. It feels too nice not to.

    “I’m glad I brought my hair care items! Non, I’m glad I’m staying a couple of weeks. One wash will do next to nothing for that amount of damage! Be glad I love you, I wouldn’t do this for anyone else.” He turns to the tub, and smiles when he sees his love’s eyes closed. “Good. You needed to relax. How long has it been since you let yourself unwind?” Arthur flushes crimson, opening his eyes slowly.

    “A week before we last saw each other.” Francis clicks his tongue. “I know. I should take better care of myself. I’m sorry.” He looks at him pleadingly.

    “Don’t give me that expression. And don’t apologize. You know I like taking care of you.” He smiles sweetly at him. “Close your eyes again. I don’t want to get anything in them.” Arthur does as he’s told, relaxing again. Francis sits next to the tub, filling a cup he brought with him with water. He pours it over the Brit’s head, wetting his hair. He runs his fingers through it, making sure it’s all wet. He nods to himself, and squeezes some shampoo into his hand. He rubs it into Arthur’s hair, smiling a bit at the bubbles it makes. He makes sure it coats his hair thoroughly, and lets it sit for a few minutes. He rinses it out carefully, making sure not to get any near his eyes. “One more. Your hair feels better already. Honestly, Arthur, why on earth do you use that stuff? It’s damaging your hair!” He shakes his head, opening his conditioner bottle. He rubs it into his hair, using a generous amount. It’s probably too much, but this conditioner is meant to heal damaged hair. A little extra won’t hurt.

    “I know. I’m going to throw it out. I won’t even finish it. I just wish what you told me was best for my hair wasn’t so expensive!” Francis chuckles quietly.

    “Taking proper care of your hair means spending more money. But it’s worth it. You don’t want it to be dry and brittle, do you? It’s so easy to break when it is! Then you have to get a haircut, get a treatment, there’s so much to do if you don’t take proper care of it! Besides, I like your hair the length it is. It’s perfect. Just like you.” He presses a soft, gentle kiss to his forehead.

    “Don’t be so sappy,” Arthur grumbles, face turning red. Francis lets out a bark of laughter.

    “Why not? I only speak the truth, mon cher. You are perfect to me.”

    “If I had my eyes open, I would be rolling them.”

    “Non, do not open them. I am about to rinse again.” He fills the cup with water, and pours it over his head. He runs his fingers through his hair, pouring more water over it. He does this a few times, until he no longer feels product in his hair. “There. Now you may open them.” Arthur opens his eyes slowly, immediately staring into his love’s.

    “Kiss me before I get you wet trying to kiss you, my beautiful.” Francis presses his lips to Arthur’s lovingly. He pulls away after a moment, smiling at him.

    “I shall leave you be. Enjoy your bath. I will be on your couch, watching something. Love you!” He runs out of the room quickly, taking his cup, shampoo, and conditioner with him. Arthur rolls his eyes, but sinks down in the water nonetheless. He feels better from the shampoo and conditioner. Maybe he’ll take a nap. That sounds nice. He closes his eyes yet again, feeling content.

~

    Arthur thanks the florist hurriedly, and hugs the two bouquets of flowers to his chest as he runs outside. He places them in his passenger seat, and turns on his vehicle. He glances at them every now and then as he drives home, making sure they’re okay. They make it without even a sign of wilting, and he rushes inside. He places one on his bed, and holds the other in his arms. He takes a deep breath and walks to the front door, waiting for Francis to get back. He doesn’t have to wait long. He opens the door for him, and holds out the bouquet. His eyes widen, and he smiles brightly. “Red roses! Oh Arthur. Thank you. So much. I love you.” He spins Arthur around, then kisses him passionately, being careful not to crush the flowers. When he pulls away, he also takes the roses.

    “That’s not all. Put those in a vase, then sit on the couch with your eyes closed. I want to do something else for you.” Francis raises a brow at him, but doesn’t ask any questions. He goes into the kitchen to search for a vase, and Arthur runs to his bedroom. Their bedroom, when his love is visiting. He picks up some scissors he placed on the bedside table earlier, and carefully cuts the flower heads off, leaving a bit of stem. He gathers them up, and goes to find Francis, who is exactly where he told him to be. The roses are on the coffee table in front of him, looking almost as stunning as him. “I’m going to touch your hair now. Please trust me, and don’t open your eyes!”

    “Oui, alright. But you better not mess up my hair! I put too much effort into keeping it flawless.” Arthur laughs quietly.

    “I know. Hopefully I’m improving it. At least for the day.” He can tell this catches Francis’ interest, but he doesn’t ask about it. Thank goodness. He takes a small section of his hair, and starts braiding it. When he gets a good start, he grabs one of the flowers and weaves it into the braid. He finishes the braid off, then adds another one. He braids another section next to it, weaving one flower into the area between the two from the last one. He continues on like this, alternating the design, until he’s out of flowers and hair to braid. “Alright! Now go look in the mirror.”

    “I am very interested in what you have done.” Arthur grins at him, and motions him toward the mirror. He laughs, and goes to look at his reflection. The moment he sees it, his hands fly up to his mouth. “Oh Arthur… It’s beautiful.” He turns and hugs his love tightly. When he releases him, he turns back to his reflection. There’s two-toned irises of many different colours woven into his hair, in the braids he felt Arthur making.

    “You’re beautiful,” He whispers, wrapping his arms around his waist. He presses a chaste kiss to the side of his neck. “They just accent your beauty.” He stares at their reflection, and smiles. “I can’t believe how lucky I am.” He smirks. “And you’re very lucky too, you know.” Francis laughs, turning his head to kiss the corner of Arthur’s mouth.

    “I am. What did you do this for? And don’t try to tell me because you felt like being romantic, I know you better than that.” The Brit laughs.

    “You caught me. I wanted to thank you for putting up with my stubbornness. I know I can be a handful sometimes. But you still love me. I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate that. Especially since you have to go back to France in a few days. I don’t want you to go, but I know you must. This is the least I can do to show you I love you.” Francis wraps his arms around him tightly.

    “I love you too. And I will cherish these flowers until they die. They aren’t coming out of my hair, I don’t care if I have to miss a day or two of washing it. These are more important. You are more important. I hope you know that.”

    “I do.” He nuzzles him. “Now get off of me before we get any more sappy.” He shoves him away, cheeks crimson. “I’m not embarrassed! You are!” Francis laughs, nodding quietly. There’s the Arthur he knows and loves. So very much.

[gwensparlour]

Tag game. I was being tagged by @anarchyduck and @amalysstuff to post the last seven sentences I wrote

Thank you both! I didn't do it earlier because working on several wip at once I actually got lost of what I had wrote last.

Anyway, I calculated the sentences as everytime there is a full stop, that is a full sentence.

Still, it could be he missed it.

He'd better actually read the letter before drawing conclusions.

Once he reached the bottom, he felt like the floor had been pulled out from beneath his feet.

He read the letter again and a second time after that, slowly in case his eyes were playing tricks to him. The words did not change. If anything, they became clearer.

"Read this," he called Howard, giving him the letter.

‐‐‐

A little excerpt from my current royal i-will-finish-this-wip-by-2022-i-swear, fruk AU.

Tagging @radioactivehydronerd, @aph--lietuva, @draw-a-circle-thats-the-foxhole, @maryeve-the-bitch, @chessna2, @dreaming-fireflies, @i-gotyou-first

[pillow-ghost-nan]

SPAMANO FANFICTION REC LIST

Because I’m a spamano trash and I think I’ve read way too many fanfictions than I should have.

I will try to keep this list updated. If you know some good story that isn’t here let me know. Also if there’s anything wrong with the sources feel free to message me too

Multichapter:

All of our flaws by lastdreamofmysoul

Antonio is a man whose world revolves around anyone but himself. Lovino is a man with dreams bigger than a job behind a drugstore counter. Antonio is broken; Lovino is incomplete. Will a chance meeting lead them to mending their cracks and finding their missing pieces? Human AU, trigger warning for self-harm. - Ongoing

Credo by Cameron Kennedy

AU, 1502. Fueled by revenge, Lovino Vargas hasn't failed an assassination job yet - but when a new Spanish captain comes to Rome, killing the unorthodox Antonio Carriedo might just be the death of him.

The lemon tree by StarsMadeinHeaven

AU Lovino didn't want to be a slave in that scary mansion. He needed to break free. The fight for independence, however, is a difficult path, and falling in love with the man that destroyed his life doesn't make things any easier.

This fanfiction is just absolutely beautiful. Everything is just 10/10

The Many Personalities of Spain by Writer-Girl-19

England casts a spell to rid himself of Spain. As expected it goes wrong; leaving Romano to deal with the many personalities of Spain. That sounds like a normal day for Romano, right? It would be if the personalities not had their own personifications. - Ongoing

And the Birds Sing No More by Burlesque Romantique

"Don't ever leave me." Lovino said nothing. He allowed the tense heaviness to settle among his shoulders, tighten his lungs, and spread between the space from where he stood to where Antonio was seated lethargically. Antonio's gaze sharpened. Lovino, inclining his head slightly, whispered, "I won't." Spamano, AU

Bottoms Up! by Sunny Day in February

Follow Lovino on his weird and, well, at least quite interesting trip around Europe in order to find out some of the greatest secrets ever about himself, Europe, tomato-shaped alarm clocks and the past of his lovely, but complicated Spanish partner.

This one is just hilarious. It is a bit silly but will definitely make you laugh from the beginning to end.

Softness and Light by betka23

AU. Odrzucany przez bliskich licealista Lovino nieoczekiwanie otrzymuje pomoc od swojego nauczyciela. Choć nie chce się do tego przyznać, coraz bardziej zależy mu na uczuciach Antonia. Spamano, zawiera także lekki FrUK i GerItę.

Translation: Lovino is a high school student rejected by his relatives. All of the sudden he receive help from his teacher, Antonio. Even though he doesn’t want to admit that he cares more and more about Antonio’s feelings. Spamano. FrUK and GerIta mentioned.

So this one is in Polish. If you don’t mind reading with a Google Translate help then I really recommend it. It’s short but it’s an amazing story.

Secret Tunnels from Madrid to Sicily by PrincessSmuttButt

When Antonio Fernández Carriedo begins work as a professor at a prestigious university in Britain, one of his students, a Sicilian boy who goes by the name Romano, immediately catches his eye. He is a clearly gifted writer, who closes himself off in the wake of a dark and painful history. Even wrapped in his darkness, pushing everyone away, Toni finds himself determined to bring out the potential within Romano...They drag each other into a passionate, inevitable affair--doomed, they know, to end in flames.

A very beautiful and mature story. It’s also amazingly written. I cried like little shit at the end.

Tesoro Mio by spinyfruit

Antonio’s the charming, handsome farmer with an infuriating Spanish accent, and Lovino is the mysterious wine entrepreneur who comes and goes. When Antonio falls in love, he throws society, expectations, and religion to the wayside, but can a strict Catholic like Lovino do the same?

We the Dreamers by TheGoliathBeetle

New York City, 1940: Antonio is a recently arrived refugee from Spain, a scarred soldier with firm political convictions. For Lovino, everything is pointless and nothing ever lasts. The two of them live, love and dream desperately, as World War Two threatens to take it all away.

Greasy by evetnt

Summer time 1955, a mechanic equally as hot as the weather had been fixing up Lovino's car for what felt like forever and their fascination with each other grows passed auto-shit and sandwiches even as the pressure from Lovino's over-protective grandfather and greaser/soc gangs rise. -ongoing

Tight Rope by TheFreakZone

Rich, spoiled kid Lovino Vargas hates pirates. Pirate captain Antonio Carriedo hates rich, spoiled kids. None of them ever thought they could feel something different from hatred towards one another. However, Fate seems to have different plans for them, and twists their lives in unexpected ways. -ongoing

Breathless in the Atmosphere by Spinyfruit

Antonio only needed money for marble. He needed to make his art. And a chance encounter on the subway offers him a job as a male escort. It was just for the money. He could stop anytime he wanted to. Really.

The Space Between the Balconies by Spinyfruit

There's a space between the balconies, where glances are stolen, smoke flies, and dreams wander. Lovino draws the blinds, and Antonio opens his windows. They see each other sometimes.

Left me crying like a little baby. This is one of my favourite spamano fanfiction. It’s short but absolutely powerful and touching

Dance with me by StarsMadeinHeaven

AU. Lovino Vargas started taking tango lessons completely by accident. Who would have thought that one day he wouldn't mind those hands roaming over his body? That he would be dancing with his teacher as if there was no one in the room but the two of them? -ongoing

Bésame Mucho   by George deValier

WW2 AU. Lovino Vargas only ever wanted something exciting to happen in his boring, everyday Italian village existence. He never expected war, Resistance, love, passion, treason, or a cheerful, confusing, irritatingly attractive Spanish freedom fighter. -ongoing

Ok, I am very aware that everyone knows about this fanfiction but still I couldn’t resist

Numbered Lithograph by youaremarvelous

AU Spain x Romano. When Lovino starts attending art school with his brother he finds his most important lesson doesn't come from his professors, but from a culinary student at a sister school: sometimes the flaws hold the beauty.

Good Vibrations by The Cilantro Family

Lovino wasn't a fun guy to talk to, he knew this very well. When he signed he was speaking, not putting on a show. Usually his expression represented what he was feeling, rather than what he was saying. But this guy, for some reason, was different. He acted like he wanted to talk to Lovino even though Lovino had nothing interesting to say, and no interesting way to say it.

Oh boy, this fanfiction is one of the best things that happened to me. Absolutely recommend

One shots/ Two shots/ short stories:

Before the Snow Falls by Spinyfruit

Lovino, jersey number nine, right winger. He was ready to pass the ball, ready to set up the win, but Antonio, opposite team, center fielder, was ready too. Someone thought, and someone didn't, and they crashed. Hard. A few months later, Lovino's on crutches, Antonio has scholarships, and they have to deal with the aftermath of what happened. —Spamano, two-shot.

Liar by starshards

Spain cannot resist Romano, even though he hates himself for it.

Fool by faerichylde

Spain really was a fool. Otherwise he wouldn't have wanted Romano so badly. After all, fools always want what they don't have.

Rebels in a Sleeping City by konstellasjon

"I felt like we were in limbo, two blindingly awake rebels in this sleeping city. I didn't know your reasons for being up and about. But, you were, and so was I, grinning at you like it was going out of fashion."

Light by annapotterkiku

Lovino was convinced that he didn't have a soulmate.

25 MPH by writingandchocolatemilk

"Any reason you were driving fifteen miles under the speed limit?"

"Safety?"

Officer Vargas frowned. "Yeah, sure. Willing to take a breathalyzer test?"

"No!" Gilbert stumbled out of the car. "That is a bullshit request! Because if you don't, Antonio—"

"I'll shoot you," Officer Vargas muttered, and Antonio wasn't sure he actually heard that. He doesn't think he was supposed to. "Sorry, do you want to take the test, instead?"

Five Times Romano Unintentionally Made Spain Blush by darkhue

...and one time he did it on purpose.

Conversations on Cups by orphan_account

Lovino is not particularly fond of his job: working in a coffee shop can get infuriating, with the long orders and hard to spell names. But frustration at one customer has melded into friendship, and even that’s beginning to shift.

Leading the Blind by steingasse

Lovino Vargas’s life was simple, tedious, and a functional amount of lonely. Then one day a hung-over stranger broke in and passed out on his couch.

Door to Door by Canadino

Do not open the door. It could be a zombie, an unwanted boyfriend of your brother's, or a persistant salesman by the name Antonio Carriedo.

Chalk Dust by counterheist

Lovino Vargas (grandson, philosophy graduate, teacher, brother, man): 1. Fate: a lifetime. It’s a start.

The Spaniard and Death by Oboeist3

The tale of a young reaper, a heavy soul, and perhaps a bit of love.

whose thing is this anyway by ShippingEverything

In which Lovino and Antonio get their clothes, among other things, mixed up

Lovers by fuckingtomatoes

Antonio loved him. He loved everything about him

Language Barrier by TheFreakZone

Even though he doesn't understand him, Antonio loves talking to Lovino in Spanish. Lovino doesn't say it, but he loves it too.

It’s a story based on a prompt that Antonio thought that Lovino doesn’t know any Spanish so he kept saying many filthy things because he was sure that Lovi did not understand. Oh boy was he wrong Super cute and hot

Non Omnis Moriar by Burlesque Romantique

Antonio knew that once someone is bitten, they're dead after dying. So all he can do is run.

Unrighteous by SnowyWolff

Lovino has been unrighteously charged for crimes he did not commit and has been sent to teach at a remote northern Magical College. There, he meets Antonio, who makes the never-ending cold a little warmer.

Lifeline by antiheroics

AU (human names used); Suicidal Lovino Vargas makes a suicide pact online with equally suicidal Antonio. They meet, they get mistaken for a couple out on a date, they drink a lot of badtasting vodka, and Lovino begins to wonder not so much if he wants to kill himself, but if he wants Antonio to.

32 Thursdays by counterheist

Antonio is a physics student in love. To Lovino’s embarrassment, so is he.

Aroma by Jacquzy  

This is how it happens; how Antonio Fernández Carriedo comes to fall in love with the sweet-scented child seven years his junior.

Progression by Horribibble

When the Vargas Famiglia lost its Don, Lovino was abruptly faced with all of his nightmares. The worst of which wants nothing more than to give him a kiss.

A Trip To The Cinema by lullabyemyuu

Surrounded by the ruins of the ruined cinema, an elderly Lovino both remembers and forgets.

I wouldn't if I were you by starshards

Romano comes to the shocking realisation that people actually think that Spain is attractive.

Cupcake by writingandchocolatemilk

"No, Lovino!" Feliciano pointed, tears evaporating. "It's a dog!"

"What?" Lovino looked around. "That's a fucking bear."

"Lovino," Antonio hissed, "be respectful! No swearing!"

"Shi—sorry. Antonio, look at that dog." Lovino pointed. "Look, it's a bear."

Ludwig leaned closer. "That's a newfoudland."

Lovino scowled at him. "That's a bear."

Disgustingly Sweet by Sunny Day in February

We all have this urge sometimes.

El Despertar by Tyranno's girl

Or 'The Awakening'. This world is filled with many strange things, people, and occurrences. Once must always be careful of who they put their trust into; everyone has a dark secret behind the mask they don in the day.

Spostare by Canadino

She was just one girl, one body in the whole human race, that made him realize he was undeniably, helplessly attracted to Antonio; and she was the one who stole Antonio's heart away. High school AU, onesided Spain/Romano

How It Is by counterheist

This is how it is in the house of the never-setting sun.

on the dimensionality of an n-night stand by counterheist

Antonio is the one night stand who just won’t leave.

Diplomat's Son by writingandchocolatemilk

Lovino is content to let Antonio touch him. Antonio is happy to do this, and he runs his hands up Lovino's sides, relishing at the feeling of skin against skin, at the quick heartbeat he can feel. His head spins and Lovino pulls him into another kiss.

"Oh, Lovino," Antonio murmurs.

"What?" he asks, sharp, but that just makes Antonio's heart melt. "Take off your shirt. I'm not going to be the only one naked."

"Yes, sir." Antonio laughs.

A Sprinkler of Disaster by SnowyWolff

Lovino comes home one day and the surprise that waits for him behind the door is not exactly what he had expected

Baile Con La Bula by Wendigo Heart

Romano thought the bulls were actually rather pathetic, allowing themselves to be slain. It was the matador’s control that really ignited his passion. But he would forever deny a certain matador’s passion; Romano refused to be his bull to slay -The original source was deleted...  That was hell of a good fanfiction

The Art of Flying by The Goliath Beetle

They're both a little bit damaged, a little bit unscathed. Lovino can only truly see the world when Antonio describes it to him. Words can be magical, words can drive the darkness away.

Exasperation by ReinMaker

Lovino reflects on how it came to this, thanks to himself and his mother-in-law.

PWP/Porn with some plot/basically smut

Praise by learninghowtosmut

Tumblr request for praise kink, ft blindfolds and gross sappy adoration

Six Times Romano Failed at Seducing Spain (And One Time He Unintentionally Succeeded) by sapphiire moon  

Spain is sick and tired of Romano constantly flirting in front of him, and so he decides to punish Romano by not having sex with him anymore. Romano does not like this at all, and he's determined to win his way back into Spain's bed (and heart) through seduction. Awkward, awkward seduction.

A Way to Say I Love You by sapphiire moon  

Spain and Romano's first time

With No End in Sight by stardropdream (orphan_account)

It's hot and Antonio is distracted.

For The First Time In A Long Time by Chaosride

Antonio has been hunting like this as long as he's been a vampire. Human's were more ripe during sex, and the bite was pleasurable anyway, as long as he didn't drink too much, but this times a little different. He picked up an Italian in a bar, expecting a quick meal.

Beautiful by   Chaosride  

A tumblr prompt requested Spamano BDSM

Give and Take by mareepysheepy

After hundreds of years in the making, Romano is in what he would grudgingly call a relationship with Spain. At least he thinks he is. He's really not sure. Weren't relationships meant to be about mutual give, and take, after all?

Jesus Christ I think this is the best written smut I’ve ever seen

Spirito Di Punto by starshards

After Romano's driving skills send another car to super-car heaven, his boss decides that it's time for him to have something much more modest. Luckily for Romano, Spain's there to help him learn how to appreciate it.

Like a Virgin by The Cilantro Family

Antonio's never had sex before. Lovino walks him through it.

Great spamano writers:

Basically almost all of their fanfictions and great, I just didn’t want to put them all on the list

Canadino

TheGoliathBeetle

sapphiire moon  (aka best spamano smut writer you can ever find)

StarsMadeinHeaven (former Happymood)

writingandchocolatemilk  (basically tons of amazing spamano one-shots)

userscounterheist

SnowyWolff