Kay, so this is my brand new story, that I really shouldn't be writing, but have done anyway~!
Totally fell for Hetalia. Like, head-over-ass...seriously.
So anyway, first chapters either suck, or they end up being the best, so god only knows how this will end up! ^_^
Warning: AU, Bad Touch Trio, fluff, angst, yaoi, abuse, cross-dressing, usage of human names, a lot of swearing, smut...probably, yaoi, unrequited love, yaoi. Let me make it clear one more time...YA-OI!
Disclaimer: After extensive searching of each DVD box, I found no contract declaring I was the owner of Hetalia...yet...
Pairings: FrUk, Spamano, PruCan, Ameripan, GerIta definitely and maybe some USUK, RoChu, Girikey, NetCan. Whatever else may pop up. DeNor, SuFin...yeah...
Edit: I'm revising all the chapters I have written so far and as a bonus, the ever so lovely ms. nightshade is beta-ing my chapters for me~!
Chapter 1 - How To Get Your Heart Broken
"Wiiiith or wiithouuuuuut youuuu~! I can't liiiiiiive...with or withoouuuuut youuuuu~! OhhhhhhHHHHHH~!"
Normally, Arthur Kirkland had a lovely singing voice; one that would be simply perfect when singing this particular U2 song. However, Arthur is pissed, so naturally everyone in the world should forgive him for this folly. For once. Never again, as he was beginning to piss off the remaining customers at the bar and the bar-staff themselves as he had scared off the majority of their customers. It was only a tiny little pub and they had enough trouble keeping their customers as it is, due to inflating alcohol prices.
The customers they had managed to keep, however, were too drunk to actually notice the warbling, strangled cat who stood at the karaoke machine. They were too drunk to notice the boy who was currently pouring his heart and soul into a song that was being utterly and completely slaughtered. And if they did notice, then they were too busy cheering the boy on to acknowledge the fact that he was singing terribly and he was pissing off the bar-staff.
However, what no one knew, or understood, is that Arthur had a very good reason for getting pissed and for murdering a beautiful song by U2. The British boy did not go out every night just to get smashed and then slaughter whatever song the karaoke machine threw at him. Tonight was a 'special occasion' and the pub was also holding a 'buy one; get one half-price' offer on their beer. Arthur would have been a fool to not take advantage of either opportunities.
Despite the first opportunity involving his broken heart and his pathetic excuse of a boyfriend. Although, to be fair, to just call Francis Bonnefoy a 'pathetic boyfriend' would be going too easy on him. For a description that would be accurate, Arthur would have to include the words 'dirty' and 'French' and 'STI-ridden'. Because it's only what Francis deserves for ripping out his heart and shredding it into pieces. Regardless of the fact that, despite being a dirty Frenchman, Francis may not actually be STI-ridden.
Or, at the very least, he better not be.
If Francis was STI-ridden, then Arthur should really get himself down to the nearest sexual-health clinic instead of murdering everyone in the vicinity with his drunken warbling. And if the tests did come back positive and Arthur did contract an STI, then Francis would have to prepare himself to spending the rest of his life as an eunuch. And Arthur wouldn't regret it not one bit. Even if he got sent away for GBH, the Brit would still be laughing his head off and telling everyone that the nasty little frog deserved it. In fact, said nasty little frog could go and choke on flies for all he cared.
Not that Arthur did care. No, not at all. He stopped caring a long time ago...five hours to be exact, when the alcohol kicked in. His body had become numb to the pain of heartbreak and his mind had clouded over with a nice fog of indifference. Naturally, when Arthur sobered up with a lovely hangover to greet him, he would probably care once more. But, time heals all wounds and all that. Arthur was sure that he would eventually get over it and move on with his life. Unless he did end up having an STI. Stuff like that would be hard to move on from if an ex-boyfriend gave you it. Especially if it was something terrible like herpes or crabs...and shit.
Fucking French wanker.
"Annnnnnd you giiiiiive yourself awaaaaaaaay~!" Arthur sang out his misery and his heart-break and poured his entire fucking soul into the song. Which could have been sung better, if Arthur was sober and emotionally stable. But Arthur isn't sober; and he never really has been emotionally stable. His three older brother could attest to that. And Francis.
Arthur injected ten times more gusto into the song as, once again, Francis Bonnefoy popped up into his thoughts. Ever since that night, Francis had been there, invading his every waking moment and even invaded his dreams. Or would they be called nightmares? Either way, Arthur hated the fact that Francis could still taunt him, even when he wasn't around physically.
And it all started on that one bloody night...
It was their first anniversary of being together and Arthur wanted to do something special. They had been dating for a whole year and neither bothered with celebrating the monthly anniversaries. Mainly because one or the other forgot or they were just too busy to do something. But the Brit knew that the annual anniversaries were different. He distinctly remembered how Alfred said that everyone celebrated their first annual anniversary because it was special. He also said that Arthur should most definitely celebrate seeing as no one had predicted that Arthur and Francis would have actually stayed together for that long.
So, after researching ideas and gleaning some thoughts from his friends, Arthur finally came to the conclusion that he should do something...naughty, for his boyfriend. Francis had always been the type of person who was up to doing anything in the bedroom, and despite all protests, Arthur had to agree with him. They both liked being adventurous and experimental, but there was one thing that they hadn't tried out yet. Mainly because both boys had too much pride in their Y-chromosome to actually want to do it and the inevitable arguments that followed just wasn't worth a night of being close together being missed out.
Normally, Arthur was way too prideful for this particular kink. His dignity allowed him to only go so far with certain kinks that Francis and he played out in their bedroom and that was only because Arthur was in control most of the time. Yet, he did love his boyfriend and this was a special occasion, therefore he forced himself to sacrifice both pride and dignity and decided to just go through with his idea.
His inspiration for his 'naughty' little present came from one of the many French nicknames that Francis had given him: mon petit lapin.
To this day, Arthur still failed to recognise how he resembled a bunny rabbit at all. The first few times of being called it, earnt Francis a sharp punch on the nose. After a while, Arthur just sort of gave in and accepted the sweet nickname. Not that he gave Francis one in return. Well, unless the French boy considered 'frog' to be loving and affectionate.
Anyway, after throwing his pride and dignity down the proverbial toilet, Arthur decided to muster up his courage and stepped inside a little sexy shop named 'Ooh la la~'. The shop was situated on the outskirts of the town that he lived in, so luckily he avoided any of the students that he attended the Academy with. Yet, it did take him several attempts and whiskey shots to actually step inside the shop, but he eventually managed to do it. As soon as he stood inside, however, he knew he had probably made an awful mistake.
The shop was a bizarre mixture of fluffy pink toys and jet black hardcore bondage equipment. The Brit quickly edged away from the darker side of the store and fumbled his way through the cutesy costumes and the toys that lined the other side of the shop. He recognised chocolate body paint, glow-in-the-dark condoms, scented lubes and—ohbloodyhell—the outfits.
Quickly glancing around, Arthur fingered a silky corset and hoped to God that no one saw him in here.
As it so happens, however, the Gods above hated Arthur and do like to mess around with him from time to time. Which meant that Elizaveta Héderváry, who had been voted 'Most Likely To Rule The World', two years running, spotted him immediately. The brunette had gotten a part-time job in 'Ooh la la~' and found it to be the best place to work in if you ever required blackmail.
And to see Arthur Kirkland, looking at skimpy outfits, was the most perfect opportunity for blackmail she had ever seen.
She crept up behind him and threw an arm around his shoulder casually. "If you want a corset, then I'd advice you away from anything pink. You'll look totally washed out and rather trashy if you ask me," she stated, as if she was reciting one the greatest laws of the world.
Arthur jumped and stared in horror at her, looking very much like a deer in headlights. "Oh...bollocks," he muttered, his face gradually getting hotter and pinker.
Elizaveta grinned at him, looking very much like a predator gazing at their prey. "Come with me," she said. "I know exactly what to get you."
She didn't really give Arthur any choice. As such, the British boy spent two and a half agonising hours being primped and gussied up; being forced to wear outfit after outfit. All the while, Eliza interrogated him on why he was buying this, who was he buying this for and for what purpose. It was, hands down, the most scariest moment Arthur had ever experienced with a girl.
And that included all the times his sister had tormented him when he was younger.
Finally, after she allowed him to leave, Arthur made his way back to Academy to complete his idea. An idea that had taken three whole months of his life away from him. However, he knew it was worth it and he was ready and willing to surprise his boyfriend. For the rest of the day, he had spent his time avoiding Francis like the plague, ignoring his calls and texts and even hiding in the girl's toilets to avoid the fancy French bastard. He wanted to starve his nympho-crazy boyfriend of touching him, hoping that tonight would lead to the best sex ever.
Besides that one time in Alfred's car, of course. And that other time on top of the washing machine when they had gone to the laundrette together. Oh, and that other time when they did it on the headmaster's desk. Which they do not talk about. Ever again. For certain, confidential reasons.
Ahem. Arthur was currently in his boyfriend's dorm-room, which was roommate-free for one whole night, courtesy of Lovino and Matthew. He had sent a text to Francis, informing him that he was needed in his dorm ASAP. That was half an hour ago. Normally, when Arthur sent such texts, Francis would come running straight away. His current standing record is ten minutes, thirty-three seconds.
Arthur felt for sure that after being avoided all day, Francis would have beaten that records, hands down. Unfortunately, Arthur was wrong and he hated being wrong. Almost as much as he hated cross-dressing. Which didn't happen much; only on Francis' birthday to be honest. Besides, the last time he had worn a dress, it had been a nurse's uniform and it covered him up a hell of a lot more than his current outfit did.
His current outfit consisted of a dark green baby-doll which had black lacing flowing up the sides. It cinched in at Arthur's waist and then flowed out into a little skirt which ended mid-thigh. Upon his legs, were a pair of fishnet stockings that came up to just above his knees on his shaven legs. Then on his feet, he had reluctantly bought a pair of small black heels with little white bows on them. Gloves that matched the shoes adorned his hands. To top off the outfit, he had a pair of bunny ears on his head and a little bunny tail pinned onto the back of the dress.
For the pièce de résistance, Arthur had handcuffed himself to Francis' headboard.
Arthur had always enjoyed tying Francis up, but never really had the chance, or the opportunity, to return the favour. Luckily for him, the handcuffs had been a freebie that came with the bunny ears and tail that he had bought at the sex shop. Eliza said that they would just make the night that extra bit 'feisty'...whatever that meant. He tugged on them experimentally, finding that the soft fluffy material eased the pain when he yanked on them sharply. He figured he's be doing a lot of yanking tonight and not just on the handcuffs.
Innuendo aside, Arthur leant against the headboard of his boyfriend's bed and surveyed the candlelit room. Francis shared the room with his two idiotic friends. His two idiotic and extremely messy friends. The Brit had the displeasure of having to clean up the room first before placing down the candles. Arthur adored candle-light and saw it as being so romantic to have sex with only candles lighting the room.
It was probably the first and last time that he and Francis had ever agreed on something verbally.
Smirking at the thought, Arthur shifted slightly, feeling the lace beginning to irritate his skin. He wrinkled his nose in discontent and vowed that the next time he and Francis had kinky sex, it would be the French boy who wore the skirt. Arthur didn't find pleasure in dressing like a girl at all. Nor did he find pleasure in shaving his legs. Arthur has enough trouble growing hair on his body, besides the hair on his head as it is. Sighing, Arthur silently swore to himself that never again, even on special occasions, would he allow Francis to dress him up as girl.
Never. Not even if he was drunk and made some crazy promise to Francis that he would. Never, ever again.
Plus, high heels were fucking murder to walk in. How girls could wear such ankle-breakers was a concept that was beyond Arthur's capability of thought. Sighing, the Brit waited for his boyfriend patiently, figuring that Francis was still probably looking for him. Yet as time went past, his arms were beginning to grow heavy. Ditto were his eyes. Fucking hell...he'd been stuck in this fucking position for ages. Glancing over at the clock, Arthur scowled and shifted. A whole twenty minutes had passed. Arthur had sent the text ages ago!
Unless Francis had turned his phone off; or it was just dead.
Still...where was he?
A little bubble of mixed worry, fear and anger grew in his stomach and he started to chew his lip out of anxiety. Arthur briefly eyed the key to the handcuffs on the bedside table and wondered if he was flexible enough to reach it with his legs. After all, being the boyfriend of one Francis Bonnefoy did have it's upsides...like the three-hour workout his body went through, six times a week.
However, just as he started to lift up his leg, he heard the tell-tale creaking of the apartment door opening. The Brit heard muffled footsteps coming towards the bedroom door and his heart began to beat quicker. He let his leg fall back down and his eyes widened in hope.
Crossing his legs demurely and trying to put on the sexiest pout he could muster, Arthur readied himself to be thoroughly ravished by his boyfriend. He felt utterly ridiculous, but figured that the inevitable sex would make up for it. And if it didn't, then he always had his ways of getting back at Francis. As the door slammed open, Arthur's heart skipped a beat as his boyfriend stumbled through...
His heart then stopped beating altogether when he saw Michelle stumble in a second later. His heart started to sink when he saw Michelle practically jump on Francis and started kissing him. Swallowing deeply, Arthur's mouth fell open when Francis' arms reached up and pulled her in close; the same way that he would often do to Arthur whenever the boy kissed him.
Arthur's heart all but broke when they kissed deeply. Like, tongue-in-each-others'-stomach-deep. He felt like ice had been poured straight into his veins and his entire body went numb. His head was screaming with angry thoughts and a loud ringing noise echoed in his ears. His hands clenched into fists and he finally felt that sharp pain as the handcuffs bit into his wrists.
Arthur tried to work his mouth into screaming at them, to shout at them, to fucking whisper...but all that came out was a croak. He couldn't find the words to get across the message of absolute agony and despair at getting a front-row seat to his boyfriend's betrayal.
It was only when they managed to acknowledge him being there, did he find his voice, and even then he didn't know what to say. It was rather awkward at first, obviously. Arthur just stared at his lap, whilst Francis stared at him in disbelief and Michelle just stared at them both.
"M-Mon cher...I...this is...what I mean to say is..." Francis started, eyes wide in shock and his face a perfect picture of horror. The French boy tried to find the words to console Arthur, but he failed drastically. After all, it wasn't like he could say 'it's not what it looks like', could he? Michelle on the other hand, took a horrified step backwards, her eyes wide and her mouth falling even wider as she took in the scene before her.
"You told me you were single! How could you do this to him! To me! You...you...you fils de pute!" she cried and slapped him before storming out of the room. Francis clutched his cheek and called out after her in jumbled French sentences. Her words stabbed Arthur deeply, and as hot, wet tears streamed down his face, he only managed to utter two words.
"Happy anniversary..." he whispered, his gaze burning into his lap. All that time, effort and embarrassment...wasted. Arthur couldn't believe it, didn't want to believe it. but all he could feel was the harsh stabs of betrayal as they spiked deep inside his heart telling him that this actually happened; this was real. He could hear Francis still arguing with Michelle out in the corridor. The French boy had gone after her instead of making his excuses with Arthur.
Clearly, some motherfucker really hated him up there.
"Annnnd you give yourself awaaaaay~! Annnd you giiiiiive and you giiiiiiiive and you fuuuucking wanker~! You dickhead! How bloody dare you do that to meeeeeeeeeee~!" the blond continued to wail, disregarding the fact that even the drunkest customers were beginning to get annoyed with him.
He also disregarded the fact that the song had actual lyrics that he was supposed to sing and instead decided to inject his own thoughts and emotions into it. Arthur Kirkland figured that he had a problem and dammit, the whole world was going to hear it! Whether they liked it or not and whether the message was comprehensible or not.
Either way Arthur had a right to drunkenly abuse the beautiful lyrics of U2, despite the fact that his 'right' was rather debatable. In his personal opinion, no one could doubt the fact that his reason for doing this was logical enough. Francis Bonnefoy, his boyfriend of one year, who had chased after him for two years, had cheated on him and destroyed their relationship in a matter of five minutes. Unless, of course, Francis had been cheating on him for far longer than those five minutes. Oh God. Had Francis been cheating on him before that night? God knows. Did he know it was their anniversary that night? Probably not.
Whatever. What-the fuck-ever. Arthur didn't care anymore. Nope. He was totally over his bullshit ex-boyfriend. Arthur Kirkland didn't need Francis Bonnefoy in his life anymore and the world deserved to know that fact. Arthur had utterly and completely—
"Annnnd...annnd, if I eveeeer see you agaiiiiin~! I'll rip off your bollocks and shove them soooooo far up your arse, you'll be choking on your own foreskin for the rest of your liiiiiife~! Ahahahahahaha~!"
—moved on from Francis.
However, there were some people who weren't as sympathetic to Arthur's plight. For example, the two nasty looking doormen who had come in to see what all the racket was about, didn't look very pleased with the teenage boy who had chased off all of their patrons. In fact, they looked downright pissed off. They didn't care that Arthur's boyfriend had spectacularly cheated on him. They didn't care not one single iota. They only cared about their stupid pub losing stupid customers because they were too stupid to keep them.
They waltzed straight over to the karaoke machine and turned the thing off. They were rewarded with cheers and praise from the remaining customers that lingered around them. Arthur didn't notice and carried on singing, unbeknownst to the fact that he had been receiving naught but jeers for the past twenty minutes. The two doormen looked at each other and sighed. They always got stuck with the weird ones.
"Alright, get outta the pub, mate," Doorman #1 said, his deep voice cutting straight across Arthur's warbling. The British boy stopped singing abruptly, granting the two doormen before him with a viscous glare.
"Piss off! I'm Arthur-fucking-Kirkland! It's my God-fucking-given right to sing in this pub and so I shall fucking sing in this pub! There's nothing you two fucking wankers can do about it!" Arthur declared, waving the microphone in their faces victoriously. The drunken patrons cheered him on, despite the fact that they had been jeering and booing the boy just mere moments ago.
"..." Doorman #1 said.
"..." Doorman #2 said.
Thus, Arthur-fucking-Kirkland was kicked out and barred from yet another pub. He flipped the double doors off and started to shakily make his way back to his dormitory. The rain was coming down harsh and heavy and made the moping boy sigh at how typical the situation was. This was the fifth time he had been barred from a pub. The first time he had ever been physically chucked out though. Arthur snorted, he guessed he should e used to such treatment by now. No one loved him, or wanted to be his friend, or wanted to remain in a monogamous relationship because their slimy French fingers liked to wander.
He was rather, quite alone and there was only one person that he could blame.
So whilst the rain poured down on him, drenching him from head to toe, Arthur came to several conclusions. First of all, as he glanced into a shop window whilst walking past, he realised that he looked like a drowned rat when it rained. Not the most attractive look in the world. Second of all, rain is not his friend and there was a chance of him getting hypothermia if he didn't get somewhere warm now.
Melodramatic, he may be...but it really was fucking cold.
Thirdly, Francis was a dickhead who ought to have his dick cut off. The frog had embarrassed him, hugely embarrassed him and in front of someone else too! Therefore, he needed to die. Or have his dick cut off. Or something.
Whatever, Arthur just wanted to receive some sort of justice. And he hardly believed that the sort of justice he required would be found at a court or a police station. Vigilante justice just seemed so much sweeter in his eyes. Arthur would have to research it later at some point.
Straight after a warm shower, of course. And some pills to protect him from getting hypothermia.
All topped off with a late night call to Kiku, describing how pitiful his life—
"A-A-Achoo!" Arthur sneezed violently.
I always get dead nervous whenever I post a new story.
So yeah~! Hope you liked it so far! ^_^
Plot bunny bit my ass outta nowhere, but it sounds good, right?
Oh...and BTW, don't kill Francis just yet...m'kay? ^_^
Perty please review! ^_^
Love City Girl