#walestonga

[questioned-quetzalcoatl]

Common Ground - Part 1

Rating: K

Pairing: Wales/Tonga, New Zealand/Australia (Minor)

Characters: Various

Summary: A Commonwealth meeting calls for members from around the globe to meet all in one cramped up building, at least that's what Kainga’s impressions were when arriving in London, England. Veining politeness to their fellow commonwealth nations has always been a bit of a problem, until they unexpectedly meet a rugged Welshman with a drinking problem.

(Also available on AO3)

-

AN: Well, looks like I’m stuck in Historical Hetalia now- I was never really a history lover until I started exploring some of Tongan/British history. Now I’m kinda interested? Bonkers I know. So this dates around 1930’s time, after the First World War. I wanted to write some more on WalesTonga, how they met ect. Also practice with my expanded list of writing more characters, hope u like! (If there are any historical mistakes or inconsistencies, I do apologize.)

Trying a different writing style too!!! Let me know how it is! <33

Kent, England 25th August, 1931, One year after the Commonwealth of Nations was founded.

In this particular spot, there was no discernable speck of civilization. And it was raining.

They hadn’t even taken their first real step off of the train from Paris, and already up to their ankles in mud. Thanking the circumstances that they’d packed extra shoes and stockings, or the poor chap next to them was certainly in for it. Adjusting to their surroundings, just to find out they weren’t in London at all. The countryside around them was fairly pleasant, they always loved the countryside, certainly one of their favorite places to be. Rolling hills in riotous green where small white dots of sheep grazed, soggy and bleating in annoyance. Kainga wished they could join them in their protestations. Sheep were their favorite part of the countryside.

They took a step, prying their foot from the sucking mud. They nearly left a shoe behind, and was shocked when their foot landed not in another puddle of squelching mud but on something hard. They looked down. They had been deposited on some sort of track, two parallel iron bars driven into the ground connected by perpendicular wooden boards beside the mud track they were set upon. A letter from Mr. England had proposed they were to catch some sort of carriage to London, they’d never doubted the Englishman before, however they couldn’t help being skeptical that he’d dropped them in the middle of nowhere. That couldn’t be it, perhaps somewhere down this trail someone was waiting to pick them up. So they started down the countryside path, the rain turned to a very English drizzle, wind whisping in the trees around them.

It was so peaceful, the gentle hills of evergreen pastures where the fluffy white sheep chewed on knife edged grass that only parted and ceased on the snakey rutted path Kainga was on. It really reminded them of home, brushing their fingers along the wool of a sheep near the path, it bleated in a friendly manner at them. Their peace disturbed just a moment later, an ear splitting whistle startled them so badly they nearly tripped over as the sheep scampered away back to the hills. They looked up, something was barreling along the side of the track. The rain spat and fizzed off its metal siding as it let out another shriek, it was a train.

They only realized it as it chugged past them, pistons pushing the wheels along the track, if there was a train coming towards them then that must mean some town or village lay ahead. At least someone to show them the way to London. The Steam train driver shouted something from his perch in the engine, something that Kainga was certain was an obscenity as they were dangerously close to the train tracks beside them. Kainga watched the train pass, the first few cars lined with windows behind that Kainga could make out the dim, crouched shapes of people within them. The back half of the train was black windowless cars. Luckily the train's wheels hadn’t made too much of a mess but mud still splattered up to their knees, letting out a distasteful grumble in return. Remembering England’s letter in their pockets, they quickly went rummaging around for it, some sort of instinct they had to not get it soaking with either the mud or the rain.

Much to their disappointment, as if they were expecting something else to be written on the letter that wasn’t the exact same thing they’d read on it since they first opened it.

Nothing but a vague direction to a town called Chilham, Kent. Wherever that was. They supposed that’s where they’d be meeting their ride to London, they also supposed that England had thought there was going to be signs. Perhaps if it wasn’t for that train they’d be well and truly lost on that dirt path that led to nowhere, with that they followed the train tracks up the hill, praying that it was the right direction.

—

“Well, that took longer than it needed to.” They couldn’t help but remark at the sign in front of them that read;

CHILHAM

Now all was left to do was find who on earth was picking them up. Hoping it wasn’t someone fashionable, they’d have to walk up to them in mud splattered white stockings that weren’t very white anymore. The last thing they looked like was presentable, covering it up with their coat and trying to ignore it as they walked through the quiet village.

Chilham was a village of what could only be described as architectural marvels, a small town hidden away within the English countryside with stone paved roads and old white buildings lining each curb, some made of brick adorned with dark brown rooftops of tile and chimneys. Flowers of all variation against the green of the bushes and leaves that nooked into window sills as they walked by the Woolpack Pub. Buildings stamped along and clustered around the large square where there were a couple of quaint tea rooms and the entrance to Chilham castle. All looked over by the grand St. Mary church to their behind.

However much the Tongan would have loved to sight see the beautiful little town, they spotted the carriage Mr. England had described to them. It looked almost royal, that had to be it, no matter how tempted they were to visit the farm shop nearby to collect some memorabilia from this place.

The carriage was horse drawn, wheels that looked like they rumbled across the stone roads, suspended on the axles or chassis by leather straps. Genteel as it all was, the chariot and its steed seemed to be lacking only a driver. They turned to scan the small crowd back in the village square for anyone who might resemble a Charioteer within them. Even going to trail around to peek around corners and brick alleyways, they couldn’t see anyone and was too socially anxious to ask around, deciding their last option was just to put their bags in the carriage and wait.

Its handle looked like that of a door knocker, being in England they’d already seen their share, a few of them blazing on front doors of houses that lined the wet brick roads and pitched black fences to section off each property. This handle was gold plated with an antique texture that formed a lion's head. In its mouth was a brass ring also in the color of gold, the whole thing looked very well polished against the deep red wood of the door and its similarly golden resplendent structures around it. They took the ring and knocked it against the wood, testing the waters to see if there was someone already inside. Expecting some fellow nation who was also hitching a ride.

Upon no answer, Kainga took it upon themselves to open the door.

Heaving their bags up onto the first levitating step of the carriage, quickly flicking their head over to check that the horse wasn’t bothered by this very wrong feeling activity. Much to their luck, the carthorse wasn’t kicking up a fuss and seemed to be rather content with nibbling on the grass of a nearby lawn instead. That at least gave them a little hope with the gentle swing of its tail.

Opening the door was a whole other situation, it seemed locked yet it felt like there was some weight leaning against it, becoming a direct opposing force to Kainga who was trying to open it from the other end. Whatever it was, it was heavy enough to push the door and swing it open suddenly, sending Kainga back off the step and onto the sidewalk with a thud, their luggage crashing beside them.

Letting out a squeak once they came back to their senses, only to find a half drunken half hung-over man sprawled over the step and ground, his legs still in the carriage. Indicating that he must’ve been slumped against the door, he let out a loud long groan, the bubbles of the alcohol practically popping off of him and somehow he’d managed to get his suit both the wrong way round and inside-out. What concerned them the most, the drunken Welshman wasn’t moving. Worried nonetheless, as they always tended to do, Kainga knelt down to try and shake the man awake. When that didn’t seem to work, they tried gently slapping at his face and trying to ignore the urge to pour the rest of that liquor bottle he was drinking straight from over his face. That would surely wake him.

When they did, he was not impressed. Kainga however was at least slightly amused.

“D-do you know how expensive that stuff is?” He growled, grabbing the now empty bottle and staggering to his feet, having to lean on the carriage for balance. Wiping his face, he somehow completely missed and Kainga rolled their eyes, just handing him a handkerchief instead.

“No, I do not,” They remarked. “You can inform me how expensive it was on the way to London. I’ll do you one better, do you know you’re supposed to be taking me there and yet you’ve decided to drink on the job?”

“Yer took too long.” He grumbled and kept wiping his face before wiping his nose across his sleeve. Kainga felt a little sick at that.

“Yes, I might’ve taken too long, but we’ll be even longer if you don’t take me to London now.” They huffed and opened the carriage door to put their bags in. “Everyone’s probably wondering where on earth I am! Drunk, hung-over or both, I need to get to London and you have to take me.”

“M’ not drunk.” He watched the Tongan pack their things away. “Hun’ over. Took a nap then drank again. Hey you’re not actually expecting me to drive hours to London in this state are yer? It’s a good…two hours.”

“Well that gives us plenty of time doesn’t it?” They replied with annoyance glazing their voice, soft like icing on a cupcake. “If you don’t take me there now, I’ll inform Mr.England of your drinking on the job.”

“Yer wouldn't-”

“You underestimate me, Welshie. I need to get to London and you appear to be the only sorry soul with a horse and carriage to help me.” They folded a soft woolen sweater from their bag and handed it to him. “I heard it’s cold this time of year as well.”

The Welshman gave him a strange look, one that overstayed its welcome as Kainga shoved the sweater into his chest after waiting for too long. “Gaping is not allowed either.”

“Alright, can I at least get your name? If I am going to be taking you to London at least I’ll know who owes me money afterwards.”

Kainga pondered for a bit almost as if they were stalling or even confused on their own name, it wasn’t that at all. In fact, it was more of which name to actually use. Though depending on who they were speaking to, he most likely only knew them by their English name given to them. Just to throw him off, they responded, “The Kingdom of Tonga. You?”

“I’m aware, got anythin’ simpler?”

“Tonga.”

“I meant an actual human name, fleecy.”

Kainga’s cheeks pinkened deeply at the nickname, though even they were unsure of their own reaction to that. Embarrassment? They were rather fond of that name, but they shook it off. “Um- Lynley, Lynley Wellesley.”

In their eyes, their English name could be worse. Mr England had in fact put a bit of thought into it and it was rather charming but not something they were willing to keep for long. Lynley derived from the word ‘meadow’ and Wellesley after the Wesleyan religion and priests that had been brought to Tonga upon European arrival. Many churches of methodist denominations had been set up and still being built, most of their people had already converted due to the missionaries. Even after all that, they still preferred their native name of Kainga Tukuafu more, wishing not so many nations knew them as Lynley.

The Welshman nodded, not exactly approvingly, just to let them know he’d understood. “Lynley…oh yes I’ve heard of you. You seem to be Arthur's only sensible colony.”

“It’s good to know my reputation isn’t something other than that.” They smiled, stepping up onto the platform of the cart. “May I get your name in return or should I just forever know you as the stinky drunk Welshman?”

His eyes widened and almost instinctively went to sniff his armpits to check if he did smell or not. Kainga held their disgust within a raise of their eyebrows and a slight paling of their face. “I don’t smell.” He started off again, his voice deep yet rickety like old wooden floorboards. “Wales, Southwest of England, Great Britain. I’m Owain Marc.” He surprisingly took off his hat to them, more of a fancy cap than anything.

“Are you not a Kirkland? Mr England’s brother.”

“Yes, but personally I prefer not to be known as a Kirkland. Don’t sit right.”

“But why if-” The door closed on Kainga before they could get their words out cohesively. “Excuse me?!” They yelled and peered out of the front slot of the carriage. “What on earth was that for?”

“Save that blabber for explaining to Arthur why you’re late to his meeting.” Owain replied, opening a metal flask that was kept in his discarded coat pocket, full of whiskey or rum nonetheless. Surely it was impossible to get drunk while you’re hungover?! Kainga was bemused at all of this. More so at the fact it was later just chucked to the side as he mounted the driver's seat of the carriage.

“Are you not even going to pick that up?!”

The slot in front of them closed over quickly.

[ask-aph-tonga]

Sooooo....about that date with Owain~ You two a thing now? If so, you're adorable together!!!! >u<

"Oh dear I see word has spread already huh? When will men learn to keep their mouths shut nonny."

"But...yes. I suppose now that the news is out I did in fact visit Wales. It was a place that always intrigued me and I rather enjoyed my time there. The scenery was gorgeous and the sheep were just darling."

"And, yes. I did perhaps get a few drinks with him, nothing more nothing less. So, no. We are not a 'thing' nevertheless if we are adorable or not. I suppose we'll have to wait and see nonny~"

[questioned-quetzalcoatl]

Swansea Whiskey

Rating: K

Pairing: Wales/Tonga

Characters: Wales, Tonga

Variation: Human AU

Summary: Owain’s discontentment with life left him staring down a glass of whiskey, something he’s rather used to by now. When a stranger enters the local bar, walking right into his life and heart is the last thing he expected them to do. 

AN: Well, here it is, Tonga finally being written as non-binary. English gendered pronouns took more time to learn than I expected but I finally got the hang of it. If there are any mistakes in this, I am sorry. On the other hand, I’ve been wanting to write these two for ages. What started out as a little shippy inside joke turned into a ship I dearly love with my heart. Who knows, maybe I’ll write them more, tell me what you think! \\uwu//

Big thank you to @kwitchly for this idea of the pairing and fic!

WalesTonga Fic

Tonga - Kainga Tukuafu - Wales - Owain Marc

Song Inspo: Tennessee Whiskey - Chris Stapleton

---

There’s not much to be said about him, in fact, there’s nothing to be said at all. For the sight that he was, Owain Marc was an incredibly average looking Welshman with his back hunched over a glass of whiskey. Smoke permeated the room, forcing him to adopt a squint against the curling of his lip as he was pushed around by truckers slouched to either side of him, the collection of empty shot glasses and beer mugs in front of them suggesting career drinkers. The bar is hundreds of conversations told in loud voices, all of them competing with the rock music that dominates the atmosphere. The crowd is young, students from the university for the most part, though right now Owain wished they’d all just fuck off.

When it’s quieter, the pub oozes charm with its dark patterned carpeting, textured walls and odd mixture of ornaments—knick knacks that you might find at a jumble sale, old framed photographs, funny plaques. He always felt sorry for the poor person in charge of dusting all those trinkets. It’s inviting against all the smells of sweat and grease from the pub food being served from the booth he was sitting at, high tables and stools, long bar, hanging glass racks running along the side of him. It all had a very tavern-like feel, if it wasn’t packed to the brim at 10 pm on a Friday night he’d enjoy himself a lot more. Soon after, it wasn’t long before he’d decided he’d positively had enough, evident by the loud huff he gave followed by the scarf he wore being thrown back over his shoulder impatiently. The back of the Welsh Pub is far quieter than the high rising volumes of the front bar, some booths huddled towards the back under a soft amber light that was dimly lit above them. Only taken up by the odd individual or couple who just wanted some alone time.

He spends his nights out in a barroom, not even knowing when his life had taken this downwards turn so when wishing he could go back, it all became a distant haze of memories. Liquor was the only love he’d known, perhaps now he was just too far gone. Simply gazing into the empty seat in front of him like he was expecting an answer from someone as he asked that question, only met with the distant sounds of the bar and the scents that waivered in of char and cigarette smells that clung onto peoples clothing. Swishing around the last few drops of his whiskey, disappointed to find it all gone already. Like the bottom of the bottle being all dried up, he’d always looked for love in the same places, leaving the only warmth he had was the warmth of his duffle coat against the cold Swansea winter nights. The only way he could go now was further down, because if this was bad, then how much worse could rock bottom be? Owain had already felt like he’d hit it, what’s another refill going to hurt, he had nothing better to do with his life then sit and wallow in self pity and loneliness. He had to dull the pain as quickly as possible.

His first surprise of the night is when he finds someone sitting in his usual seat, a creaky bar stool that had a slight lean to the left from the nights he’d spent drunk and slouched with most of his upper body on the bar table. Some of the other stools around them were available, clear by their emptiness. Owain catches himself off guard, finding that he had stared at the other for at least a good 5 minutes beforehand, having zoned out completely by them, their looks and complexion. He’d never seen anything quite like it. He likes the way their lips would curve upwards slightly and giggle when they find something funny. He wonders if they’d find it creepy that he’s watching them, if he’d blown any chance he had with the person from how dingy and beaten down he looked compared to them. How they looked also made him question quite a few things, he’d doubt they’d notice him staring completely gobsmacked as their nose had invertedly been buried in a book. He assumes they’re reading a tense moment, the way their facial expression seems to change with every paragraph. First a smile, then a frown, ending on pursed lips as the Tongan shrinks back into their wool cardigan and places the book down beside them, reaching over to grab their glass of what looked like wine from where Owain was still standing, right in the middle of the bar. He’s only snapped out of this dream-like state when some behemoth of a man, clearly very drunk, stumbles into him by mistake. 

They look like they’re cold in that cardigan, Owain contemplated offering them his coat or scarf as he started to walk over, getting closer and better sight of them as he came up beside them to ask for a refill. Catching a glimpse of the book they were reading too as the bartender takes his glass, letting the Welshman lean on the bar counter in some hopeless attempt at being as smooth as the whiskey he just drank.

“You look cold, you know, a simple cardigan isn’t going to help you up here, especially in winter.” He pulled up the stool next to them and placed himself in it, seeing their eyes flick their attention towards him once he made himself known. They look at him questioningly, without even speaking they clearly wonder if they were the one he was referring to. They get their answer, as from the top rim of their wine glass they see Owain’s eyes soften their gaze on them.

In his attempt to pull them into a conversation, the Welshman was met with relative silence from them. This place attracted its fair share of solo drinkers, their carefully knitted wool blue cardigan and jeans said that they didn’t belong here. Mind, Owain wasn’t that great looking himself when it came to his fashion.

“It works for me.” They finally spoke up back at him, their voice was no less of an indicator about their gender. Too high to be that of a man yet too low to be that of a woman, Owain found himself staring again like they were a tricky jigsaw puzzle and the person seemed indifferent. Their eyes complexed him when they asked. “Why? Do you think I’m cold? Were you going to offer me your coat or scarf then buy me a drink maybe?” A grin soon appears on the other’s lips as they see the Welshman’s face fall.

“How did you-”

“You’re not the first.” They answered before he could even finish his sentence. “I doubt you will be the last either.” They said as their wine glass was hovering around their lips, when they spoke it fogged up the tempered glass. Catching Owain’s facial malice, they let out a soft sound almost like a chuckle. “So to answer your question, yes I would like that drink thank you very much.” 

Owain shifted a little in the seat next to them, his lip gave a soft twitch against a rub of his nose. Conflicted as he watched them close their book and place it back into their satchel which hung off their body and slumped down the chair. “Well that was easy.” he grunted with a joking smile before the Tongan shook their head. 

“Oh, I’m not being easy hun, I’m getting a free drink~”

Owain gave them an incredulous look before nestling back into his seat, his arms crossed over his chest as he’d felt nothing more than played. Yet in a way, he was astonished about how they’d managed to do that. “Alright, if I buy you a drink can I at least get your name?”

“That could be arranged. Taking strong strides already are we?”

“Well got to go in strong if you wanna come out stronger. Second drink I get your phone number.”

The Tongan practically scoffed in his face like he’d just told them the most terrible lie they’d ever heard, even getting them to laugh. “Phone number? You’re looking at about the fifth drink there, Welshie.”

“Fifth drink?! What do you take me for? I’m a Welsh man at a shitty local bar, not a bloody billionaire!”

“Mhm, that is deeply unfortunate isn’t it?”

Owain gave them an eye roll before signaling the bartender again. Unamused with how the Tongan seemed to not stop pridefully smirking to themselves at scoring yet another free drink from another seemingly desperate man. For Owain, he was just happy to have a bit of company finally and was planning on at least getting their phone number by the end of the night.

“What would you like?” he asked rather politely, though it strained him to be nice to people after about a year in a slump and hardly any social interaction. It was going to be hard, granted, but the other seemed to very much be enjoying themselves.

“Strawberry wine.” They mentioned, placing their empty glass down in front. “I had a glass of it before, I must say that stuff is delicious.”

Owain found himself smiling at them, after putting in his own order of more whiskey to the bartender that then took their glasses to refill. “You’re a wine type of person huh?” 

“Yeah I suppose so, just put anything with berry or berry flavor and I’m all over it. Wines and Ciders are mainly my go to. And I suppose you’re a Whiskey man, Welshie?”

Owain stifled out a laugh. “I am. Whiskey, rum, bourbon, the works really. Anything that’ll get me drunk enough quickly to forget the whole night. Throw a cigarette in there and it’s like a bloody three course meal.” He watched while hunched over the bar as their drinks were returned to them, catching eye of the other leaning forward to grab their wine glass. One of their legs rested over the other in their seating position, he doesn’t know why, he just found it curious. “Okay, now may I know your name?” he grinned widely.

They stalled for a bit, taking a sip of their wine before placing it down in front of them again. Raising their brow slightly at him before replying to the question Owain was so desperate to know the answer to. “Kainga, Kainga Tukuafu.” Their smile turned sweeter than before, making Owain suddenly feel a little nervous and his face feel a little hotter.

“A-are you not from around here? I mean, well your accent and name. You sound foreign. Where abouts are you from?”

“South pacific. I was born in Nuku'alofa, Tonga. It’s the capital, I’m just here for a trip that’s all.”

Neither Kainga or Owain knew it, perhaps it was the alcohol that aided in it. Yet they talked for hours. It seemed one conversation just melted into another, one of them was even about unicorns. Owain only remembers it was brought up because Kainga found it absolutely hilarious how Scotland’s national animal was the mythical being. Proceeding to laugh until the verge of tears with Owain cheerfully protesting about how he was not in fact lying about it and it was actually true. Lord knows his Scottish brother Alistar wouldn’t approve of how much the Tongan was laughing.

In his efforts, he found himself slowly falling for the other as they talked about this and that without a care in the world. It was all so surreal to him, how they actually enjoyed his company. Spending time with him and even…laughing with him. He didn’t care if it was somewhat tipsy, he felt like he’d known Kainga for years when it was about the time where they were the last ones at the bar.

Getting kicked out of the bar, Kainga didn’t even say goodbye to him. No, they stayed. God knows what time it was, yet they found themselves both still giggling under their breath about whatever was still somewhat funny to them. Neither of them were that intoxicated even, still very much aware about the other being in their company. Kainga hooked their arm in his and walked alongside him, the air was far cooler than before, making them shiver. “So much for that cardigan ‘working’ for you?” Owain grinned as he felt Kainga huddle in closer to him for some form of warmth as they strolled along the streets of Swansea. 

“O-oh shut up!” Kainga pushed at him in a gruff. “Look I wasn’t planning on walking out in the cold at what…2am?! If I knew I was going to be stumbling around Swansea with some jumped up Welshman I can assure you I would’ve bought a coat!” They huffed, puffing out their cheeks slightly in annoyance. 

Owain just giggled under his breath and gave a playful tug at their bright red nose. “Alright alright. Come here, you can take my coat.” he smiled, taking it off and wrapping it around Kainga's shoulders. Watching their shivering come to an abrupt halt and their face heating up to the same color as their nose. 

“T-thank you…” They murmured at him gently, bringing the coat further up around them. Although it was too big for him, oversized in fact, it was very cozy and warm. They felt like they could just sink right into it, it smelt like Owain’s whiskey, yet as warm as a glass of brandy. Owain’s hand holding theirs like he was leading them somewhere, Kainga was curious yet followed in suit with him.

“Come on, there’s somewhere I want to show you.”

“I’m intrigued~” Kainga answered, now finding both of their hands within Owain’s palms, they were surprised how big they were compared to their own. 

Approaching in the distance, Kainga could vaguely make out what looked to be a giant water fountain. They could hear the trinkling of the water in splashes and sprouts, if Owain was to turn around to face them now he’d see a picture perfect face just flustered with anxiety. Wavering a stare up at the Welshman as he led them to the side of the fountain, Owain  wasn’t sure it was possible for the other to get redder, flushed beyond what rosy could describe. Their eyes transfixed on the fountain that swayed like a blossoming flower as they sat on its edge.

The most amazing thing is that several water jets are sprayed into the air to form a water curtain. The laser is thrown onto the water curtain, creating color and light against each droplet. Water droplets that spurt out are crystal clear and pleasing, like a lotus flower, and the drainage columns behind it are like dancers. When the sprayed water falls, the river-like pool below it picks up circles of ripples against the water only to repeat again and forever on.

“O-Owain it’s…it’s beautiful.” They mention under their breath in awe as Owain approaches them sat on the fountain's edge. He rummages in his pocket before pulling out a coin for them. He places it in their palm yet his touch lingers on, not taking his hand off of theirs when their gazes meet, their faces closer than before. Kainga’s lips open just a touch as he can see the glisten in Owain’s eyes when he hands them the coin with a whisper of; “Care to do the honors?”

Kainga took the small silver coin in their palm before skimming it along the fountain’s surface water with a happy laugh. Owain came to sit next to them, just them two alone on the fountain’s edge with nothing but sounds of the water behind them and Kainga’s own rushing heartbeat.

“So I-” they paused as a means to try and find the right words. “I had a really great time tonight Owain, thank you.” They smile so tenderly up at him, Owain’s heart skips a beat.

“I’m really glad, Kainga, I had a really great time too.” he reached out, taking Kainga’s hand in his and returning that same smile. Although not as pretty as the other looked while doing it.

Silence fell over the both of them, Kainga struggling with words before they eventually just turned to look at the water. The reflection of them both within the ripples of the sparkling water. Their attention fixed before Owain’s voice cut through their daze.

“Hey… Kai?”

“Yes?”

It was sudden, yet slow too, the feeling of Owain’s finger hooking under their chin so his whole head lifted up to meet his face again. Like their body was moving on its own accord, Kainga’s hand lifted up to hold the side of Owain’s cheek, their eyes fluttering shut like in that very moment they knew. Owain tilted Kainga’s head up, their lips brushing against his first, just in that split second before his lips met theirs.

Their kiss was longer than either of them intended on it to be, really. Owain had to hunch his shoulders over in order to actually reach Kainga’s shorter height, everything in the build up to that moment, his own heart felt like the fountain that burst behind them both. Even when they broke away, they barely took their lips off of the others as Kainga flicked their eyes up to him, expecting his reply. Owain just smiled.

He’d looked for love in the same old places, but when Kainga poured his heart out for him he didn’t waste it. There was nothing like their love to get him higher than he had been before. He could stay stoned in their love all the time, truly it was the best feeling in the world.

“Can we do this again?”

---

[questioned-quetzalcoatl]

Here's a good one for you >:3

1930's con artist couple Au, with either Kainga x James or Owain. Go wild girl <3

I mean who doesn't love a good harem if you wanna include that tooooooo

'Fool's Gambit'

Rating: T

Pairings: New Zealand/Tonga (Hetalia) Wales/Tonga (IMPLIED MMH)

Variation: 1930s Con artist AU

AN: Curse you Willow and giving me such great ideas ;u;// Also I needed an excuse to have a more fem leaning Kai in a fic, it's a must, it's a need cause they can rock a sexy dress with sexy confidence to seduce their Kiwi dadd- I mean what. This was a joy to write <3

---

They're a delight to watch as ever, prettiest little flapper he ever did see, boyish in figure and yet James still finds himself watching their hips as the Tongan sauntered towards him. A gloved, slender hand sliding from his chest up his neck to around the back of his head would make any man with good taste drop their glass of over priced champagne when they approached.

As if close contact wasn't enough for either of them as James couldn't help slide his rough hands down their hips. The curve had almost been imprinted into his muscle memory, Kainga could feel it against their tight crimson satin dress, a color to match the lipstick they wore. Suspiciously the same color of the lipstick stains on James's collar.

He knew when to stop going lower down their thighs, feeling the hand gun nicked away under the helm of their lingerie and pantyhose. Kainga smirked seductively at him and took off his hand from their waist almost teasingly. "A Sir Owain Marc, will see you now, James."

It's not more than a whisper, a message, an invite. Felt like just for him in that sugared sweet voice that called to him.

Another party, another house brimming with rich foolish men who drank too much and another victim in their little game of conning anyone stupid enough to take part. Kainga will play dumb, act like they're an oblivious piece of eye candy to draw in those who wished to play, something to sweeten the deal if their customer was unsure. There weren’t many who couldn’t be swayed by a kiss from a pretty little lady now. 

James's sharp eyes shot from Kainga's red lips to a man standing across the room from them, through the dense crowd he spotted his victim like a predator through the shrub. Kainga's tender fingers slid down James's tie, slipping them from under his tie, an alluring look and they were leading him along to follow them back over to the unsuspecting Welshman. Their aura of seductive femininity, James almost couldn't wait until the night was over so he could have them all to himself. By this time, they'd been spotted.

"Evening Welshie, can I call you that?" James doesn't wait from an answer from the brunette Welshman, whiskily stealing another flute of champagne from a waiter just passing by. He gave him an imploring look before speaking again. “A man of your standing needs some extra security, does he not?”

At the nod, a shark like grin splits the New Zealander’s lips, a glint in his eyes that the gormless Welshman didn’t notice or lacked the ability to process. Even better, by James’s standing. 

“Me company offers a secure money holding office, with high security at all times. We’ve had reports of con artists in banks just fleeing people of their money and it just breaks my heart to see peoples hard earned cash stolen from them.”

“Well- when ya put it like that, I 'ave been worried that some of me finances have been taken without permission these past few months…”

They picked a good one this time, James leaning back and watching the flapper as the man opposite continued to babble on about some worries the Kiwi, frankly, cared nothing for. While his partner in crime slandered around the back of the Tycoon, brushing against him as anyone would to get through a tough ground. Owain didn't even recognize them from past affairs regarding going to the extremes for this kind of work. He also didn't seem to notice that his wallet had been smoothly plucked from the back of his suit pants pocket.

“How soon would I be able to transfer the money to you, Mr…?”

"Hunter. James Hunter." His mouth was already growing bored with this one, his eyes trailing off back to that red satin dress in the crowd. The wallet was in with the gun, flashing him a quick exposed thigh in lingerie before brushing their dress back and disappearing, leaving him with bedroom eyes to meet them back around. James's eyes shot back to Owain, which clearly unnerved the man a little. His smirk was too charming not to be untrustworthy however. “And whenever yer ready, I could even take some now if ya had it to hand.”

The Welsh Tycoon gives him a safe full of cash, a handshake shared and a quip about how business had been a pleasure, the Kiwi leaving with his tantalizing associate at the hip, which such a little fuss it was as if nobody had noticed them arrive or leave from the dinner party.

---

The lamp on their bedside table flickered before dousing the room in a warm, ravishing light against the darkness

His kisses upon their neck and shoulders are distracting as they count the seemingly endless wads of money, patience never being James’s strong point after another successful job, hands running up her thighs, puling her dress up and off in one smooth sweep. He grunted, allowing himself to enjoy them all to himself for the night once again, truly his favorite part other than laundering riches.

“How much richer are we, darlin’?” He reathes in Kainga’s ear, hands exploring their mostly bare, soft body, teasing them as they moved and slipped between their thighs and finally got to those undergarments they'd teased him with. They softly moaned, oh they were in trouble now.

Kainga barely has time to gasp out they’d conned Marc and Kirkland bros Industries out of near two thousand dollars before they're on their back, his lips on theirs and the sound of clothes before torn off.

They'd truly played off their Fool's Gambit.

[kwitchly]

MY OTP OH MY GAWDDDD...!!!!!

I'm actually going crzzy feral right now? This is so good?! They're so adorable I could never. QUEZY THANK YOU FOR DOING THIS AAH I LOVE YOUR WRITING =o=/

Please write more, WalesTonga is such an adorable pairing of characters, I'm really getting the otp feels oh man!!! You never miss <3 WALESTONGA NATION WILL RISE

Swansea Whiskey

Rating: K

Pairing: Wales/Tonga

Characters: Wales, Tonga

Variation: Human AU

Summary: Owain’s discontentment with life left him staring down a glass of whiskey, something he’s rather used to by now. When a stranger enters the local bar, walking right into his life and heart is the last thing he expected them to do. 

AN: Well, here it is, Tonga finally being written as non-binary. English gendered pronouns took more time to learn than I expected but I finally got the hang of it. If there are any mistakes in this, I am sorry. On the other hand, I’ve been wanting to write these two for ages. What started out as a little shippy inside joke turned into a ship I dearly love with my heart. Who knows, maybe I’ll write them more, tell me what you think! \\uwu//

Big thank you to @kwitchly for this idea of the pairing and fic!

WalesTonga Fic

Tonga - Kainga Tukuafu - Wales - Owain Marc

Song Inspo: Tennessee Whiskey - Chris Stapleton

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There’s not much to be said about him, in fact, there’s nothing to be said at all. For the sight that he was, Owain Marc was an incredibly average looking Welshman with his back hunched over a glass of whiskey. Smoke permeated the room, forcing him to adopt a squint against the curling of his lip as he was pushed around by truckers slouched to either side of him, the collection of empty shot glasses and beer mugs in front of them suggesting career drinkers. The bar is hundreds of conversations told in loud voices, all of them competing with the rock music that dominates the atmosphere. The crowd is young, students from the university for the most part, though right now Owain wished they’d all just fuck off.

When it’s quieter, the pub oozes charm with its dark patterned carpeting, textured walls and odd mixture of ornaments—knick knacks that you might find at a jumble sale, old framed photographs, funny plaques. He always felt sorry for the poor person in charge of dusting all those trinkets. It’s inviting against all the smells of sweat and grease from the pub food being served from the booth he was sitting at, high tables and stools, long bar, hanging glass racks running along the side of him. It all had a very tavern-like feel, if it wasn’t packed to the brim at 10 pm on a Friday night he’d enjoy himself a lot more. Soon after, it wasn’t long before he’d decided he’d positively had enough, evident by the loud huff he gave followed by the scarf he wore being thrown back over his shoulder impatiently. The back of the Welsh Pub is far quieter than the high rising volumes of the front bar, some booths huddled towards the back under a soft amber light that was dimly lit above them. Only taken up by the odd individual or couple who just wanted some alone time.

He spends his nights out in a barroom, not even knowing when his life had taken this downwards turn so when wishing he could go back, it all became a distant haze of memories. Liquor was the only love he’d known, perhaps now he was just too far gone. Simply gazing into the empty seat in front of him like he was expecting an answer from someone as he asked that question, only met with the distant sounds of the bar and the scents that waivered in of char and cigarette smells that clung onto peoples clothing. Swishing around the last few drops of his whiskey, disappointed to find it all gone already. Like the bottom of the bottle being all dried up, he’d always looked for love in the same places, leaving the only warmth he had was the warmth of his duffle coat against the cold Swansea winter nights. The only way he could go now was further down, because if this was bad, then how much worse could rock bottom be? Owain had already felt like he’d hit it, what’s another refill going to hurt, he had nothing better to do with his life then sit and wallow in self pity and loneliness. He had to dull the pain as quickly as possible.

His first surprise of the night is when he finds someone sitting in his usual seat, a creaky bar stool that had a slight lean to the left from the nights he’d spent drunk and slouched with most of his upper body on the bar table. Some of the other stools around them were available, clear by their emptiness. Owain catches himself off guard, finding that he had stared at the other for at least a good 5 minutes beforehand, having zoned out completely by them, their looks and complexion. He’d never seen anything quite like it. He likes the way their lips would curve upwards slightly and giggle when they find something funny. He wonders if they’d find it creepy that he’s watching them, if he’d blown any chance he had with the person from how dingy and beaten down he looked compared to them. How they looked also made him question quite a few things, he’d doubt they’d notice him staring completely gobsmacked as their nose had invertedly been buried in a book. He assumes they’re reading a tense moment, the way their facial expression seems to change with every paragraph. First a smile, then a frown, ending on pursed lips as the Tongan shrinks back into their wool cardigan and places the book down beside them, reaching over to grab their glass of what looked like wine from where Owain was still standing, right in the middle of the bar. He’s only snapped out of this dream-like state when some behemoth of a man, clearly very drunk, stumbles into him by mistake. 

They look like they’re cold in that cardigan, Owain contemplated offering them his coat or scarf as he started to walk over, getting closer and better sight of them as he came up beside them to ask for a refill. Catching a glimpse of the book they were reading too as the bartender takes his glass, letting the Welshman lean on the bar counter in some hopeless attempt at being as smooth as the whiskey he just drank.

“You look cold, you know, a simple cardigan isn’t going to help you up here, especially in winter.” He pulled up the stool next to them and placed himself in it, seeing their eyes flick their attention towards him once he made himself known. They look at him questioningly, without even speaking they clearly wonder if they were the one he was referring to. They get their answer, as from the top rim of their wine glass they see Owain’s eyes soften their gaze on them.

In his attempt to pull them into a conversation, the Welshman was met with relative silence from them. This place attracted its fair share of solo drinkers, their carefully knitted wool blue cardigan and jeans said that they didn’t belong here. Mind, Owain wasn’t that great looking himself when it came to his fashion.

“It works for me.” They finally spoke up back at him, their voice was no less of an indicator about their gender. Too high to be that of a man yet too low to be that of a woman, Owain found himself staring again like they were a tricky jigsaw puzzle and the person seemed indifferent. Their eyes complexed him when they asked. “Why? Do you think I’m cold? Were you going to offer me your coat or scarf then buy me a drink maybe?” A grin soon appears on the other’s lips as they see the Welshman’s face fall.

“How did you-”

“You’re not the first.” They answered before he could even finish his sentence. “I doubt you will be the last either.” They said as their wine glass was hovering around their lips, when they spoke it fogged up the tempered glass. Catching Owain’s facial malice, they let out a soft sound almost like a chuckle. “So to answer your question, yes I would like that drink thank you very much.” 

Owain shifted a little in the seat next to them, his lip gave a soft twitch against a rub of his nose. Conflicted as he watched them close their book and place it back into their satchel which hung off their body and slumped down the chair. “Well that was easy.” he grunted with a joking smile before the Tongan shook their head. 

“Oh, I’m not being easy hun, I’m getting a free drink~”

Owain gave them an incredulous look before nestling back into his seat, his arms crossed over his chest as he’d felt nothing more than played. Yet in a way, he was astonished about how they’d managed to do that. “Alright, if I buy you a drink can I at least get your name?”

“That could be arranged. Taking strong strides already are we?”

“Well got to go in strong if you wanna come out stronger. Second drink I get your phone number.”

The Tongan practically scoffed in his face like he’d just told them the most terrible lie they’d ever heard, even getting them to laugh. “Phone number? You’re looking at about the fifth drink there, Welshie.”

“Fifth drink?! What do you take me for? I’m a Welsh man at a shitty local bar, not a bloody billionaire!”

“Mhm, that is deeply unfortunate isn’t it?”

Owain gave them an eye roll before signaling the bartender again. Unamused with how the Tongan seemed to not stop pridefully smirking to themselves at scoring yet another free drink from another seemingly desperate man. For Owain, he was just happy to have a bit of company finally and was planning on at least getting their phone number by the end of the night.

“What would you like?” he asked rather politely, though it strained him to be nice to people after about a year in a slump and hardly any social interaction. It was going to be hard, granted, but the other seemed to very much be enjoying themselves.

“Strawberry wine.” They mentioned, placing their empty glass down in front. “I had a glass of it before, I must say that stuff is delicious.”

Owain found himself smiling at them, after putting in his own order of more whiskey to the bartender that then took their glasses to refill. “You’re a wine type of person huh?” 

“Yeah I suppose so, just put anything with berry or berry flavor and I’m all over it. Wines and Ciders are mainly my go to. And I suppose you’re a Whiskey man, Welshie?”

Owain stifled out a laugh. “I am. Whiskey, rum, bourbon, the works really. Anything that’ll get me drunk enough quickly to forget the whole night. Throw a cigarette in there and it’s like a bloody three course meal.” He watched while hunched over the bar as their drinks were returned to them, catching eye of the other leaning forward to grab their wine glass. One of their legs rested over the other in their seating position, he doesn’t know why, he just found it curious. “Okay, now may I know your name?” he grinned widely.

They stalled for a bit, taking a sip of their wine before placing it down in front of them again. Raising their brow slightly at him before replying to the question Owain was so desperate to know the answer to. “Kainga, Kainga Tukuafu.” Their smile turned sweeter than before, making Owain suddenly feel a little nervous and his face feel a little hotter.

“A-are you not from around here? I mean, well your accent and name. You sound foreign. Where abouts are you from?”

“South pacific. I was born in Nuku'alofa, Tonga. It’s the capital, I’m just here for a trip that’s all.”

Neither Kainga or Owain knew it, perhaps it was the alcohol that aided in it. Yet they talked for hours. It seemed one conversation just melted into another, one of them was even about unicorns. Owain only remembers it was brought up because Kainga found it absolutely hilarious how Scotland’s national animal was the mythical being. Proceeding to laugh until the verge of tears with Owain cheerfully protesting about how he was not in fact lying about it and it was actually true. Lord knows his Scottish brother Alistar wouldn’t approve of how much the Tongan was laughing.

In his efforts, he found himself slowly falling for the other as they talked about this and that without a care in the world. It was all so surreal to him, how they actually enjoyed his company. Spending time with him and even…laughing with him. He didn’t care if it was somewhat tipsy, he felt like he’d known Kainga for years when it was about the time where they were the last ones at the bar.

Getting kicked out of the bar, Kainga didn’t even say goodbye to him. No, they stayed. God knows what time it was, yet they found themselves both still giggling under their breath about whatever was still somewhat funny to them. Neither of them were that intoxicated even, still very much aware about the other being in their company. Kainga hooked their arm in his and walked alongside him, the air was far cooler than before, making them shiver. “So much for that cardigan ‘working’ for you?” Owain grinned as he felt Kainga huddle in closer to him for some form of warmth as they strolled along the streets of Swansea. 

“O-oh shut up!” Kainga pushed at him in a gruff. “Look I wasn’t planning on walking out in the cold at what…2am?! If I knew I was going to be stumbling around Swansea with some jumped up Welshman I can assure you I would’ve bought a coat!” They huffed, puffing out their cheeks slightly in annoyance. 

Owain just giggled under his breath and gave a playful tug at their bright red nose. “Alright alright. Come here, you can take my coat.” he smiled, taking it off and wrapping it around Kainga's shoulders. Watching their shivering come to an abrupt halt and their face heating up to the same color as their nose. 

“T-thank you…” They murmured at him gently, bringing the coat further up around them. Although it was too big for him, oversized in fact, it was very cozy and warm. They felt like they could just sink right into it, it smelt like Owain’s whiskey, yet as warm as a glass of brandy. Owain’s hand holding theirs like he was leading them somewhere, Kainga was curious yet followed in suit with him.

“Come on, there’s somewhere I want to show you.”

“I’m intrigued~” Kainga answered, now finding both of their hands within Owain’s palms, they were surprised how big they were compared to their own. 

Approaching in the distance, Kainga could vaguely make out what looked to be a giant water fountain. They could hear the trinkling of the water in splashes and sprouts, if Owain was to turn around to face them now he’d see a picture perfect face just flustered with anxiety. Wavering a stare up at the Welshman as he led them to the side of the fountain, Owain  wasn’t sure it was possible for the other to get redder, flushed beyond what rosy could describe. Their eyes transfixed on the fountain that swayed like a blossoming flower as they sat on its edge.

The most amazing thing is that several water jets are sprayed into the air to form a water curtain. The laser is thrown onto the water curtain, creating color and light against each droplet. Water droplets that spurt out are crystal clear and pleasing, like a lotus flower, and the drainage columns behind it are like dancers. When the sprayed water falls, the river-like pool below it picks up circles of ripples against the water only to repeat again and forever on.

“O-Owain it’s…it’s beautiful.” They mention under their breath in awe as Owain approaches them sat on the fountain's edge. He rummages in his pocket before pulling out a coin for them. He places it in their palm yet his touch lingers on, not taking his hand off of theirs when their gazes meet, their faces closer than before. Kainga’s lips open just a touch as he can see the glisten in Owain’s eyes when he hands them the coin with a whisper of; “Care to do the honors?”

Kainga took the small silver coin in their palm before skimming it along the fountain’s surface water with a happy laugh. Owain came to sit next to them, just them two alone on the fountain’s edge with nothing but sounds of the water behind them and Kainga’s own rushing heartbeat.

“So I-” they paused as a means to try and find the right words. “I had a really great time tonight Owain, thank you.” They smile so tenderly up at him, Owain’s heart skips a beat.

“I’m really glad, Kainga, I had a really great time too.” he reached out, taking Kainga’s hand in his and returning that same smile. Although not as pretty as the other looked while doing it.

Silence fell over the both of them, Kainga struggling with words before they eventually just turned to look at the water. The reflection of them both within the ripples of the sparkling water. Their attention fixed before Owain’s voice cut through their daze.

“Hey… Kai?”

“Yes?”

It was sudden, yet slow too, the feeling of Owain’s finger hooking under their chin so his whole head lifted up to meet his face again. Like their body was moving on its own accord, Kainga’s hand lifted up to hold the side of Owain’s cheek, their eyes fluttering shut like in that very moment they knew. Owain tilted Kainga’s head up, their lips brushing against his first, just in that split second before his lips met theirs.

Their kiss was longer than either of them intended on it to be, really. Owain had to hunch his shoulders over in order to actually reach Kainga’s shorter height, everything in the build up to that moment, his own heart felt like the fountain that burst behind them both. Even when they broke away, they barely took their lips off of the others as Kainga flicked their eyes up to him, expecting his reply. Owain just smiled.

He’d looked for love in the same old places, but when Kainga poured his heart out for him he didn’t waste it. There was nothing like their love to get him higher than he had been before. He could stay stoned in their love all the time, truly it was the best feeling in the world.

“Can we do this again?”

---