#mon amour also gave me France vibes

[we-stan-eurovision]

Eurovision has officially started with the release of the first song and tbh I like France's song. His voice imo is just very good. I'm excited to see what songs will be competing next year!

[nish-e-r-r-o-r-neesh]

Um for that fan fiction thing can I get a family story with America, Canada, England, and Nyo France from hetalia? (Ps can it be human)

Okay, so I’ve never really written FACE family, FrUk or nyotalia so bear with me here XD. 

I hope you like this little fic, pure fluffery and family joy. I had fun writing this, so I hope you have fun reading it too.~ Thanks for the request! Everyone else who requested, you’re still getting your fics, no worries!

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“Cookies”

“Alfred, no. Alfred, we are not doing this.”

“Come on, Matt. Mom and Dad would love it.”

“No they would absoloutely not.”

This was terrible. This was a disaster, a mistake. If Matthewhad known this was how things were going to turn out, he wouldn’t have agreedto this. It was too late now—the shaped pieces of dough were in the tray andalready half-baked in the oven. The used bowls and spatulas had been clearedinto the sink and the countertops were ready to be used as decoration-stations.

And Alfred, the idiot that he was, thinking his littleabomination of an idea would be a perfect gift, held the monstrosity of a neon-pinksack of frosting in his arms, ready to be spread out over a perfectly goodbatch of cookies.

“No, Alfred. We are not putting neon-pink on the cookies.”

Matthew knew he shouldn’t have entrusted Alfred with the shopping.

It had been working out pretty well—the dough was fun to prepare and the two went as overboard as possible to their hearts’ content with the chocolate chips. Contrary to popular belief, the brothers worked pretty well as a pair in the kitchen and agreed with almost every culinary matter.

It’s just that Alfred’s taste in pastry decoration was a little more than… unnerving.

Matthew knew his brother tended to decorate any customizable item with the most eye-catching, eye-burning and unappetizing colors possible. Food was no exception. Agreeing to let Alfred do all the shopping, falling for the chance to relax and plan at home, might as well have been the biggest mistake of his life.  

And now, since they only had several tons of neon-colored frosting as means for decoration, Matthew was once again doomed to improvise and make-do with what was available.  

He sighed, adjusting his glasses. “Well, it’s not like we have a choice.”

Alfred immediately lit up and hollered, raising his pink frosting in the air. “YES! The hero wins again!”

“Not quite,” Matthew allowed himself to smile, despite his situation. “We won’t be using all of it. The green looks close enough to Dad’s eyes, although I’m pretty sure they don’t glow like nuclear waste,” he gestured to the rest of the sacks of frosting resting on the countertop. “And the purple gives a well-enough vibe of Mom. We can use the pink in in moderation, but nothing else.”

Alfred seemed to droop a tad, but nevertheless, his “hero” smile remained intact.

“Alright, Mattie!” He raised his sack of frosting once more, declaring, “You can always count on The Hero to do the decorating!”

Matthew was torn between getting a migraine and a panic-attack. “No. I’m doing the decorating, and you set up the dinner table.” He huffed, giving his brother a little pat on the shoulder. Even though any means of offense couldn’t possibly pierce his brother’s thick ego, Matthew was always one to take caution in fear of being too rude—even when it came to Alfred.

Well, Alfred was his brother after all. And, throughout their lives, Matthew had been his shoulder to cry on for countless times that he knew well enough what made his brother tick, and vice-versa.

Setting down his sack of frosting, Alfred nodded. “Alright, Mattie.” He declared. “Don’t worry, you can count on me this time!”  

The oven-timer dinged, alerting the two. Matthew nodded and grabbed for the mittens. “Alright, just try not to turn everything all star-spangled and striped, alright?” Alfred could be a little too much of a patriot at times.

“Well don’t over-maple the cookies, alright?” Alfred retorted, sticking his tongue out in that childish way that only he could seem to pull off. “See ya in the dining room!”

Matthew tried not to stutter back a failed retort as he pulled open the oven.

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“You think the boys will have something planned?”

Francine glanced up at her husband who struggled to shut the bright blue umbrella he wielded as they stepped onto their porch. It had suddenly started raining halfway through their dinner over at Antonio’s Palace. Unfortunately, neither had thought to bring a decent umbrella before the date, which led to Arthur running back to the car in the rain only to discover a crappy, hole-poked umbrella which their son Alfred, often used for his stunts. It didn’t quite… function… as normal umbrellas would after all it’d been through, but it was either that or being thoroughly soaked in the downpour.

In truth, the umbrella offered rather little protection. Arthur grumbled at its uselessness while Francine argued that it was better than nothing after all.

And now, Arthur struggled to pull the umbrella closed, only to give up half a minute later and throw the damned thing into the gutter.

Francine laughed at this, giving her husband a chaste kiss on the cheek to cheer him up. “Don’t fret, mon cher.” She let out her little tinkle of a laugh she knew he adored. “Let’s go see what the boys have planned for us.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, a cocky smirk playing on his lips. “How are you so sure that they’ve ‘planned’ something?”

Francine had to laugh at that. It was a little joke they made each year on their anniversary. The day her boys would stop planning little surprises and gifts for them was the day the world ended—she was a hundred percent certain of that. And indeed, it was true. Matthew and Alfred had to be just about the most dedicated children in the world, even at fifteen, Francine could hardly believe them herself.  

Every time an occasion would arise, things were always a matter of ‘what’ rather than ‘if’.

“Why don’t we go find out?” Francine let out another chuckle, taking her husband’s arm. “I’m sure we’ve stood out here for long enough to alert them of our presence.”

She swung the door open and tentatively stepped inside their little home, Arthur in tow. She had expected the lights to be off, concealing a special surprise in darkness, or two pairs of blond heads to jump out screaming Happy Anniversary! But all the couple found was a clump of balloon stuck to the ceiling with cardboard arrows attached to their strings.

Shrugging off their coats and boots, the pair approached the strange clump of balloons in the center of the living room. Upon further inspection, the arrows seemed to be pointing towards the doorway on the far side of the room with the words “GO INTO THE DINING ROOM” written in elegant cursive.

Arthur shrugged, smiling mischievously as he led the way into their designated area.

The sight that greeted the two had Francine nearly tearing up.

A romantic candle-lit dinner had been set up, far better and classier than that of the five-star Antonio’s Palace. Silken sheets over the table, two chairs draped in elegant golden fabrics, candles scattered around the room providing a romantic glow, and a single, blood-red rose resting in a crystal vase as the centerpiece.

As though on cue, the two brothers, both clothed in what looked like pristine and pressed waiter uniforms, strutted out of the kitchen doorway, covered trays in hand.

In complete and perfect sync, the two set their trays on the opposite ends of the table and pulled out the fancy golden chair.

“Please, take a seat,” Alfred bowed, trying in vain not to giggle. Matthew seemed to have a little smirk on, himself.

Chuckling, Arthur humored his boys, leading his Frenchwoman to one end of the table and taking a seat on the opposite her. This was all rather entertaining.

“This evening, we have prepared for you an appetite-filling one-course meal,” Matthew announced, his hand moving in sync with his brother’s to move to the top of the tray covers. “We hope you enjoy you meal. Thank you for dining with us tonight.’

And like a perfectly choreographed ballet, the two pulled their covers up and bowed in the most exaggerated manner possible, revealing just about the most appetizing meal on the planet—homemade cookies.

Francine squealed at the sight, a pile of still-steaming cookies decorated with purple, pink and green. Not a good choice of colors when you thought about it, yet the swirls and simplicity of the designs made them seem simply beautiful.

“You boys have outdone yourselves again!” Arthur declared, shooting the two an excited smile which had them beaming in return.

“Well, we’ve already had dinner, amour, yet suddenly I am hungry again.” Picking up a fork, Francine gave a coy smile, which Arthur was quick to return.

“What do you say? Shall we indulge once more in this,” he gestured to his cookie-filled plate. “Exquisite cuisine?”

The boys couldn’t hold back their giggles.

Francine couldn’t help but chuckle along, nodding her head. “Oui.”

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Hope you liked it~! Imma whip up some USUK or Solangelo next. Also stay tuned for the GerIta Tangled story~