romaniassexdungeon - Tumblr blog

romaniassexdungeon · 4 years

Text

Third Option - chapter 9

Pairing: Spamano, AusHun

João - Portugal Logan - Australia Hunapo - New Zealand Arjun - India

Notes: Yes, I know this is late, but I had a degree to work on, and now that’s out of the way, I’ll hopefully get more updates out. I also went back and polished what I had even more, so hopefully it’s a little less bad. I also changed Monaco’s name to Céline.

Read on AO3

...

The streets were busy as Lovino led his family to that rickety old cafe. There were people all around them, going to their real jobs. He led the others in a tight knot, heads down and minding their own business. They were going to work too, no need to arouse suspicion. No one really paid them attention. After all, everyone had their own lives to be getting on with. Lovino kept his eyes forward, not saying a word, and almost everyone else seemed to get the message.

“So, who we meetin’?” asked Alfred in his ear, “anyone we know?”

Francis shushed him. “Really? Right now?”

Alfred huffed, quietening down for a few minutes. Lovino followed the river path, up to a set of narrow stairs. It led to a higher street, more open, with houses that were larger and neater than most of the Iron district, but not by much. The road was a little wider here, and Lovino enjoyed a view of part of the Iron district, stretched out below on the other side of the river. From a distance, the place looked even more depressing: masses of crooked houses packed together, no grand buildings breaking the skyline.

Alfred chewed his lip. “So, who told you about it?”

Francis flicked his ear. “I swear to fuck if you don’t shut up, you’re going to work instead.”

Lovino turned a corner and the cafe came into view. He shushed the group and crossed the square. Certain they were alone, he slipped inside.

There was welcome shade in the cafe, empty except for Heracles watching them from the counter, seemingly stunned at the numbers. Lovino gave a nod, and Heracles jerked his head towards the back room. He led them down to the cellar in silence, and even Alfred seemed to get the idea. Through the trapdoor, down into darkness and along the corridor to the main hall they went. Inside, fewer than ten people sat and stood talking in groups.

“Wait here for Sadik,” said Heracles, “he’ll want to talk to the new people.” He turned and left without another word.

Xavier waved them over. “You made it!” He was leaning on the stage at the back of the room, where the others soon joined him. Xavier’s cousin was with him, with his golden tan, goofy grin, full nose and mop of curly hair. Lovino hadn’t seen him in a while, remembering an awkward, lanky teen. Now he was toned and curved and surprisingly handsome. He didn’t bother with the buttons of his floral shirt, apparently, tucking it into his shorts, and the style looked good on him. “You remember Antonio, right?”

Lovino nodded. “So, you dragged your family into this too?” It was as good a place as any to start.

Xavier laughed. “Toni wouldn’t shut up about the whole thing. Had to bring him or he’d tell my parents.” He shoved him. “Fucking narc.”

“It’s my job to keep you out of trouble,” said Antonio. Lovino remembered him being a bit overbearing, strict, even, with Xavier. Strange, really, he seemed so laid-back normally.

“By getting in trouble with me?” Xavier scoffed. "João is gonna be here too. He just had work today."

“Of course I'm getting into trouble;” Antonio pulled Francis into a firm hug. “Good to see you!”

“Likewise,” Francis kissed both his cheeks, “nice to know I’m in trusted company. Feels a little safer with you around.”

“Not many people,” Céline commented, glancing around. There was Tino, and Lovino recognised his two friends from the rally with him, huddled together in the corner. Kiku and Arthur were in deep conversation, looking over papers at the table. At the other end of the stage, two very strange men sat talking intensely. One looked a little like a rat, the other looked like a depressed pile of ash.

“Hey, it’s a start,” said Alfred. “We’ve nearly doubled it.” Other people had noticed too, and were staring at them with interest. Lovino wasn’t sure what to make of the attention. But he was proud of himself. Who else here had recruited 4 other people?

“What happens next?” asked Céline.

“It’s sorta like an interview,” Antonio explained, “Sadik just asks you about your motivations, and what you can do to help. Nothing too scary.” He looked at her. “Let me guess. Gilbert?” She nodded. “Yes, of course, it was part of the reason I wanted to join, why I insisted;” Antonio gave a sigh. “He was a good friend. I’m so, so sorry for your loss.” His smile was back before a melancholy look could even settle. “I know you will make his death mean something,” he kissed her hand, stooping down to reach her.

“Thank you, Antonio. I will.”

“Lovino!” Antonio finally turned to him, “it’s been too long! Look how much you’ve grown!” He ruffled his hair.

“Hey, watch it!” He gently held him back. “Personal space, my friend.”

“Course, course! Sorry.”

“Well, you two seem to have spirit!” Sadik strode into the room, holding the door to a side room open for two people Lovino didn’t recognise. “I like that, Logan, Hunapo. I hope you’ll make me proud, here.”

“Oh we will,” said the taller one, an absolute tank of a man with messy hair and a cocky grin. Logan, apparently.

“You’ve made a good choice,” said a smaller, scruffy mess of curled hair. Hunapo. Both names weren't that familiar.

“I hope I have,” Sadik nudged them, “not that we can afford to be fussy.”

“That why you signed me up?” asked Rat-man, through a mouthful of beans. He was sat cross-legged on the stage, a can balanced on one pointy knee.

“Well, I didn’t wanna say anything, but…” Sadik noticed the new arrivals. “Hey, Lovino, right? Who are all these people?”

“Relatives,” he said in a small voice. Sadik intimidated him, and, for some reason, he felt desperate not to let him down. Maybe it was because he reminded him of Grandpa Janus?

“Well done lad!” Sadik boomed, hands on his hips, “you must have some way with words!” And just like praise from Grandpa Janus, Lovino found himself elated that he’d made Sadik proud. He wanted to do more, earn more validation.

Francis whistled. “So you’re Sadik Adnan? Your reputation precedes you.”

Sadik laughed. “Already?”

“Well, I remember hearing about what happened last time. Never got involved,” he coughed, “might’ve been for the best.”

“Well, you’re not wrong. Things will go better, though. I’m older, and hopefully a little wiser now. But I can’t do it alone.” He motioned to the side room. “Please, step into my office, and we can talk more.”

When the Bonnefoys followed him inside, Antonio turned back to Lovino and Xavier. “So, Lovi, I hear you finished school too. Look at the pair of you! All grown up!”

“Yeah, a grown-up adult, so roll back on the patronising.”

Antonio laughed. “Alright. Still older, though. I want a bit of respect.”

“Because you came out the pussy two years before me?”

“Let’s not talk about my mum like that.”

“I’d like to meet your mum one day. Can you introduce us?”

“Toni’d like to meet his dad one day,” muttered Xavier, giggling at his own joke. Antonio didn’t look so impressed.

“You can be quiet!”

“His birth certificate has a question mark under “father’s name”. I’ve seen it.”

“Stop telling people that or I’ll punch you in the tit!”

Lovino burst out laughing. “Don’t worry, Toni, my dad walked out too. Who needs the rat bastards? Better off without them.”

Xavier looked between them. “How the fuck do you keep losing dads? This is the last outpost of civilisation, and there’s a giant wall around the city. They can’t have gone far, guys. Find the fuckers!”

Even Antonio had to laugh at that. Lovino leaned against the stage. “Xavi, if it was that easy, Grandpa would’ve tracked the sonnovabitch down and throttled him.” His earliest memory was Grandpa Janus pacing the main room and loudly planning to do such a thing. Ah, childhood memories.

“Speaking of Lovino’s family, they seem nice!” Xavier peered over at Sadik’s office.

“They’re alright, I guess. Céline’s my favourite.”

“They’re hot.”

“I hate you so much.”

Xavier burst out laughing. “I love you too.”

“Hey, don’t worry,” Antonio rubbed Lovino’s shoulder, “you’re not so bad to look at yourself.”

Lovino looked at him. “Is this a joke or-?”

“No! I swear-”

“Good. Because I know I’m hot, and you should know too. And you’re…” he blushed, “you’re kinda okay too, but don’t go on about it.”

“Aww, thank you!”

“I wish someone would tell me I’m hot,” said Xavier whistfully.

“You’re hot, now lemme motorboat you.” Lovino buried his face in Xavier’s chest and blew a raspberry. Xavier almost passed out from laughing.

“Finally, things are getting interesting!” called Rat Man.

“What’s getting interesting, Alin?” Sadik stepped out of his office, followed by the Bonnefoys. Lovino pulled away from Xavier’s chest, looking a little sheepish.

Alin shrugged, licking sauce off a bean with his pointy tongue. “I just thought we were all gonna touch on each other.”

Sadik looked at him. No one said anything for a long moment. “We’re not going to do that.”

“Then what was the point in joining up here?”

Sadik ignored him, instead addressing the group as a whole. “Anyway, it’s nice to see our numbers rising. We’re starting to establish links with the remnants of the old guard, and finding new faces willing to hear us out. Of course, we have a long way to go, and we’ll need a way of getting our message across without incriminating ourselves.” He clapped his hands, “but today, we’ll just focus on educating you all, and starting you on some basic weapons training. Tino here is going to teach you to hold a gun, and fire it straight.”

Lovino and Xavier exchanged looks of glee.

...

Up at the top of the city, on Rex Hill, sat the Palace, whose walls were hugged by the river on three sides. The fourth stretched out in front of the Golden Square, now empty of subjects. Inside the walls were the gardens, with winding paths touring through meticulously cared-for flowers. Water from the river fed into the gardens, creating a lush oasis in the centre of the arid city. The palace itself towered over everything, even allowing the residents to catch a glimpse of the desert beyond the city walls. The music room was near the centre of the palace, with thick walls and high windows kept close to keep the room’s secrets. There were a variety of instruments, kept polished by one of the servants. There was also a fat sofa, near the grand piano at the centre of the room.

Roderich ignored everything around him and focused only on the keys in front of his eyes. He played with all his might, played for his anger, played for his hatred, love, everything that pulsed through his body. Yes, music was illegal but Roderich relished in breaking his own rules. After all, who was going to stop him? Roderich played on, letting the music vibrate through him, words he didn’t know how to express, words that didn’t exist. It was a song his mother wrote, before the madness took her.

He finished his piece and turned his attention to Érzsebét, his Empress, his Queen, who was sprawled out on the sofa in a light, lacy dress. Her hair was splayed everywhere, thick and curly. She stood up, clapping and running over to him. ‘“Brilliant, darling, just marvellous!” They shared a kiss.

“Thank you, dear.” He held her gently, running his fingers through her hair. He’d often heard this absurd rumour he was evil. That he was a monster incapable of love. People had the gall to scream it at him, the worst last words he could think of. Was there not something more productive to say at a time like that? It wasn’t true, anyway. If he wasn’t capable of love, then what did he feel for Érzsebét? For their son? It was simple, really. But still, they said he was evil and a curse on the world. The thought made him shake with a malicious, uncontrollable rage.

“Roddy,” said Érzsebét, gently, but firmly, “you’re squeezing me.”

“Érzsebét! Oh, I’m so sorry!” He pulled away. “Are you hurt?” She shook her head. “You know I could never hurt you. I’d sooner die.”

Érzsebét smirked. “Oh, I know. Like you could, anyway.” Neither could, and neither had ever. Érzsebét was loyal to her Emperor, and Roderich worshipped Érzsebét in return. Not only did he love her, but he owed his life to her.

They’d met when they were seven years old, already betrothed and destined to rule. She was the daughter of a noble, chosen as a suitable match for Roderich, despite her unruly nature. Roderich had developed a reputation of being a selfish and downright cruel child. He was, but not around Érzsebét. He shared his toys with her, and followed her around as she plotted out adventures for them both. When it came to play fights, she refused to let him win, and Roderich didn’t throw tantrums over losing, instead begging her to teach him to be stronger.

And then it happened. The incident. They were ten, going for a cycle through the palace gardens. He remembered the scent of the plants, the pollen in his hair and the breeze. He remembered Érzsebét’s embroidered shirt and the mud on her boots. He remembered her laugh, and how he’d push his glasses up his nose before explaining the different species of flower. He even picked a large, pink one to put in her hair.

The two took a break under the shade of a tree, and it happened. Érzsebét was looking off in the distance, while Roderich leaned against the trunk catching his breath. Out of the blue, Érzsebét tackled him, launching them both into the flower bed as the ground erupted. Gunshots rained down on them, some dangerously near their mark, but the children were hidden in the bushes. Roderich wanted to cry out, but Érzsebét covered his mouth. He remembered being paralysed, time standing still until the palace guards arrived and returned fire on the assassin.

Yes, it had been an assassin; not a professional, most likely, just someone who wanted to leave the empire without an heir, someone with a grudge against the royals. Roderich had never left the palace walls since. It had taken years to build up the courage to go in the gardens, only when security had been tightened and the wall was heavily guarded. Whilst he wouldn’t control Érzsebét, he had suggested she do the same once they were married, and she agreed. Franz had been forbidden from leaving the palace.

After another assassin was more successful in killing his father, Roderich had ascended the throne a hurricane of grief and any hope that he would be a more benevolent ruler soon squashed.

“Roddy, come back to me,” Érzsebét stroked his cheek, “you’re far away.”

Roderich shook himself. “Sorry, sorry.”

The doors flung open as General Zwingli marched in. “Sir-”

Roderich slammed his hand on the piano. “How many times do I have to warn you about knocking?” He thundered, “the music room is private!”

General Zwingli didn’t appear disturbed. “I understand, but this is urgent. A small council is being summoned.”

“I see.” Roderich glanced at Érzsebét, who gave a nod. “We will go to the board room immediately.” They left the music room, following Zwingli through airy hallways, past the portraits of the five previous Emperors and platinum columns between arches looking down on the gardens.

“Where is my son?” Roderich spoke in a low voice, “does this concern him?”

“He is in the company of Lady Biedermann,” Zwingli replied, “perfectly safe. No, this is a greater problem, and affects us all.”

Roderich wrinkled his nose, “there is nothing greater than the prince. But the situation sounds grave indeed.”

“‘Tis, I’m afraid.” Zwingli rounded a corner and opened the door to the board room, holding it for the royal couple. The council members summoned were sat at one end of a heavy table, only three: Feilks, Arjun and Yao, whose job was to advise him and keep him informed on the goings-on of the city he refused to set foot in.

Roderich made his way to the end of the table, sitting on a simple throne while Érzsebét and Zwingli took their seats. “So,” he began, “what have you got to tell me? What was so important I had to be summoned? I’m assuming, by your small numbers, it’s to be kept on a need-to-know basis.” He slipped a hand into his robes, where he kept a tiny pistol. Just in case. He didn’t want history repeating itself.

“For now,” began Yao, “we need to plan carefully before this gets out. And who knows who we can trust anymore.”

“So, what’s going on?”

“The news that… well…” Feliks avoided his glare.

“Spit it out.”

“An undercover officer claims to have spotted notorious criminal Sadik Adnan wandering the Iron District last night. If he’s reentered the city, this could spell bad news for us.”

Roderich scratched his chin. “Sadik Adnan? Why should that name bother me?”

“He was one of the last people sent into exile,” said Yao. "Oğuzhan's son."

“And he’s still alive?” Roderich glared at Zwingli.

Zwingli waved a hand. “The exile programme was run by Väinämöinen. It was a soft option that let people slip through. That was why I replaced it. Besides, having suspect individuals in the city is a far more efficient method of keeping track of them.”

“But how did he re-enter the city?”

“No one knows,” said Feliks.

“Is he alone?”

“Possibly. But he’d have had allies inside the city. Someone must've helped him.”

Roderich groaned. “And do we know what his motives are?”

“No,” said Arjun, “but, we can guess what might happen, if he’s planning to carry on his father’s legacy…”

“Well, find him!” Roderich smacked his hand on the table, “find him, and all his associates! Hunt him down until there’s nowhere left to run! And let it be known that, if anyone is caught harbouring or collaborating with him, they will face the death penalty.”

“So we let the news get out?” asked Zwingli, “to the citizens?”

“Yes. We need the whole city on our side. Put a price on his head, and people will give us information. And I want crackdowns, too. Implement a curfew for a week, conduct raids on any possible allies.”

Zwingli nodded. “I’ll pull up a list of persons of interest. Anyone known to the law.”

“Good man.” Roderich stood up. “I want him dead by the end of the week.” He left the room.

Érzsebét got up. “Do what you can,” she told everyone, “and don’t let us down.” She followed her husband out.

The council sat in stunned silence, then Zwingli spoke. “Well, you heard the emperor. Feliks, I want a broadcast drafted for this evening and sent to City Radio. Yao, contact Mr Honda and get wanted posters ready for tomorrow. Send them to Arjun for printing. I want this man found!”

Everyone nodded and scrambled up. The meeting was over, and they all had work to do. Leaving Zwingli to organise the raids, Feliks strode down the hall to one of the offices. Yao paused for a moment, then started making his way outside.

“Hey, Yao!” Arjun quickly caught up with him. “Wanna walk home together?”

“Course, might as well,” Yao gave a polite smile. He and Arjun were… well, they’d known each other a long time. Perhaps too long. He was fond of Arjun, Yao supposed, most of the time.

“And you’re busy tonight, then?”

“Yes. You heard.”

“Well, if we’re both on poster duty, we might as well visit Mr Honda together, right? I’ve yet to see the man at work myself.”

“Of course,” Yao held the front door open for him, nodding to the guards swarming the place. “The man’s exceptional; you’ll be in for a treat.”

#spamano #aph cuba #aph romano #aph spain #aph france #aph america #aph austria #aph hungary #aushun #aph turkey #aph switzerland #aph china #aph india #aph poland #aph monaco #aph canada #the third option #aph fanfiction

10 notes · View notes

romaniassexdungeon · 4 years

Text

Shattered Romanticism of a God - chapter 13

Pairings: SuFin, NedDen

Warnings: swearing,

Wow, six months without uploading, I update twice in one day.

Read on AO3

...

Tino was going to destroy everyone he loved and held dear and spit on their graves, for they meant nothing to him that day. He was going to laugh as they fell, one by one, to his superior sniper skills. The snow around them would be stained red. And green. And maybe purple too. They would all beg for mercy and receive none. Yes, even Berwald, if he crossed him. No one would stand in his way and succeed.

He half-listened to the instructor, knowing full well how to play paintball. He checked his outfit, his armour vest pinching underneath his uniform. His helmet was still on the bench, for now. Berwald was standing next to him, putting on his gloves. There were a few rounds, throughout the day, with different objectives. Defending places, raiding places, all as a team. That was why everyone had planned this day out: team building. What he was most looking forward to was a hunger games where everyone was against everyone.

He was going to win that if it fucking killed him. There was no "I" in team, but there was one in sniper.

Eduard said he was too competitive, and that was why he never joined in with anything involving Tino. Especially Tino and guns and teams. He wasn’t even after the prizes, just the glory of winning. Maybe there was a darker, psychological element to it, about how his dad would constantly push him to be the best at “manly” things, but Tino didn’t like thinking about that. He preferred to call being so competitive it took the fun out of things for everyone just one of his “quirks”.

The first event was a simple two-person team game, with the last duo standing declared the winners. Of course, he and Berwald were going to be a team. And they were going to win.

He finished getting dressed, and the instructor finished explaining the safety procedures. The group were all led out of the tent and given directions to their starting positions. Soon enough, Tino and Berwald were alone, crouched behind a bush. Uncomfortably close. Or comfortably, as long as Tino didn’t pop a woody.

There were still a few minutes before the starting klaxon would sound, so he decided to familiarise himself with his surroundings. Every advantage counted here. The area looked fun, woodland made of tall, straight, evergreen trees and patches of grass. The forest floor was covered in pine needles, stretching as far as they could see. He’d have to be careful with that; the rustling of leaves could mask the sounds of approaching danger, or he and Berwald could give away their positions by constantly stepping on things. There were wooden cutouts, model castles and shallow trenches dotted about the place, thankfully creating cover for them. It looked like a fun place, all things considered. He’d have loved to have had a birthday party here as a child. Or an adult.

Nearby, there was a little dip in the ground, where a mud patch had pooled from the morning’s rain. Easy to miss, but vital.

“Perfect,” he muttered, discreetly pointing to it and winking at Berwald. He crawled over to the mud, scooped up a handful, and began smearing it over his face and helmet. Berwald gave him a strange look. “You want to get camouflaged, right?”

Berwald whined, shaking his head. “Messy.”

“Okay, but keep your pasty head down or the light will be bouncing off it into our enemies’ eyes.” He crawled back behind the bush.

“Enemies? Y’mean friends ‘n family?”

“Not here, not today.” Tino sighed and gently, but firmly, pulled Berwald down to eye level. "Okay, listen up. Do not blow this for me. No mercy, and no making yourself a target. I know that'll be hard, but just assume you're tall enough to be visible at all times and stay down."

Berwald nodded.

"I don't give a fuck that half these people are your family. If you show any hesitation in shooting them, you're dead to me. Understood?"

Another nod. "M'scared n' horny."

"Roger that. Make me proud out there, and there might be a treat for you." He winked. “I’ll roger you.”

Berwald shook his head. "M'not ready. Jus' horny."

"Reading you loud and clear, my man. Your treat is now a big, fat kiss in the privacy of my room."

"Thanks." He smiled and kissed his cheek.

"Hey, don't worry about it," said Tino, feeling suddenly very tender. "We're gonna be a great team, okay?"

The klaxon sounded, and Tino pulled away.

“Showt’me,” muttered Berwald.

“Showtime? You are truly the gayest man in history. This is war, Berwald, not theatre.” Tino blinked. “Wow. I sounded a lot like my dad there. Sorry.”

“S’okay. Kinda funny watching you get so inta this.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll probably ruin the mood soon enough. Now, let’s find Gunner before someone else gets to shoot him.”

Berwald nodded, very enthusiastically. “Let’s f’ck him up.”

...

Luca and Tolli, meanwhile, were busy hiding in a trench, huddled together and praying they wouldn’t be found. It wasn’t the first choice of activity for either of them, but everyone else had been super excited about it. Hopefully, they’d get to shoot someone at some point. At least they’d be going for a nice drink in a warm pub afterwards, and after there’d be a bath.

The two teamed up together, because Tolli didn’t want to be on a team with Vidar or Gunner, and Luca was closest to his own age. But they weren’t close enough to do anything but sit in awkward silence. There were probably things they had in common, but Tolli worried he looked like a little kid to Luca, or if Luca hated small talk. He had to try, though, or things would just get even more awkward. He could try a compliment, he supposed. They tended to go down well.

“I like your hair, by the way.” Tolli tried to rub some warmth into his fingers.

“Thanks,” said Luca, smiling sheepishly. “I like your eyeliner.”

“I like yours!”

He nodded, looking rather guilty. “Hey, can you keep a secret?”

“Sure.”

Luca lifted up his mess of hair to reveal the eyeliner on his right eye wasn’t as good as his left one. In fact, it was nothing short of a blotchy disaster. “I can never get the other eye right.”

Tolli giggled. “I hear you. It’s a weird power I have; I have to do Vidar’s makeup before going out, maybe I can do yours too, if you want.”

“You can be the band’s official makeup artist, maybe.” Luca nudged him. “And you’d get to hang out with your cousins more.”

“Ew.”

“Aww, don’t be like that. They talk about you all the time. Gunner’s super proud of you.”

“Gunner has his own siblings.”

“Really? Oh, yeah, I forgot.”

A blast hit both men in the chest, Luca, then Tolli, with no time for them to react. Tolli tried to scream, winded, but all that came out was a whimper.

“Gotcha!” Tino allowed himself a small jump for joy, from the cover of the woods he’d been spying them from. He high-fived Berwald, then ran over to the trench, ducking down until he was safely inside.

“That hurt,” Luca whined.

“Yeah, they do,” said Tino, “that’s why you have to try not to lose. Have either of you moved since you got here?”

Tolli shrugged. “We were just having a nice chat.”

“You’re not here to chat, you’re here to play!” When Tino attempted to teabag them, Luca punched him in the balls. Tino doubled over with a grunt. “Yeah, I deserved that.”

A second pair of shots sounded, both hitting Luca in the arm. This time, they’d come from Berwald’s gun.

“What the fuck?”

“Aww, my man got all protective,” Tino smiled at him warmly. “Anyway, there’s gotta be some better targets round here. Ones that are more of a challenge.”

“Yeah? Why don’t you fuck off and find them, then.” Luca rubbed his arm. “Leave us alone.”

“Will do, you pair of noobs.” Tino hobbled off back to Berwald, leaving Luca and Tolli to lie in the dirt, nursing the sore spots where bruises would soon be.

...

“Dude, how many weeds would we have to smoke to hotbox this thing,” Gunner looked around the crumbling, little hut they'd chosen to shelter in.

Adriaan gave him a withering look. “Shut the fuck up.”

“I’m just saying,” he said, “we’d probably need like 30 weeds. Lotta jazz cigarettes. Some dank blunt kush.”

That got a laugh out of Adriaan. “You're adorable.”

“Am I even using hotbox in the right context?”

“Sorta, I guess. It needs to be an enclosed space, and this isn’t really enclosed.” He nodded over at the doorless doorway and holes for windows. “A car or small room would be better.”

“So all the weeds would escape here?”

He sighed. “Yes, Gunner, all the weeds would escape.”

“See? I know about the Mary Jane. How could I be surrounded by all these green trees and grass not know about the Devil’s Lettuce?”

Adriaan snorted. “The Devil’s Lettuce might be my favourite word for weed. My sister always used to call it that.”

“She know you’re a super mega pothead?”

“Yes. I do have other qualities, y’know?”

“Like what?”

“That’s enough personal questions for now.”

Gunner looked at him. “We’re dating.”

“You have to work to unlock my backstory.”

“We’ve been friends for years.”

“And in that time I have remained cool and mysterious. Now, we should get moving. I’m not hiding in here with you when there are people to make miserable out there.” Adriaan stepped outside, glancing around and peering through the trees. Then, without warning, his head snapped back as green paint splattered across his vision. “Fuck!” He cried, ineffectively wiping the paint on his helmet.

“Who dare shoot Adriaan!?” Gunner ran outside, gun at the ready, only to get shot in the head. He stumbled, but the bullets kept coming, exploding across his chest and legs until he was knocked onto his back.

“Thanks. I feel very avenged.” Adriaan looked around for the source of the hellfire, and found Berwald peering out from behind a wooden wall, painted to look like cobblestone.

“Of course,” Gunner groaned, then lifted his gun to return fire.

Another paintball, fired from a different position, hit him in the shoulder.

“Don’t try it, cheater,” called Tino, “you’re out. No more shooting.”

“We didn’t get to shoot anyone!” Gunner cried back.

“Get better, and don’t just sit around making noise! We heard you, like, a mile away.” Tino peered around, then began crawling over to Berwald. “Nice shot, baby. Any ammo left?”

“Bit.”

“You think they’re taking this too seriously?” asked Adriaan. Gunner groaned and nodded. “Wanna go find some of the others and have a shootout instead?”

Gunner wiped dirt off his uniform, before groaning and lying back. “If you mean bullying Luca and Tolli, absolutely.”

...

It was just Gilbert and Vidar left, and they’d heard the others fall, one by one. They’d heard the screams, the gunshots. Neither knew who was next, and if it would be them. Probably them. And probably soon. They knew the Shite Death was on their tail. If they were being honest with themselves, they knew they didn’t have a chance of winning. Or escaping. They weren’t competing; they were being hunted. Despite all the cover of the forest, and despite the fact that both pairs of eyes hadn’t spotted anyone coming near them, the pair couldn’t help feeling like someone was following them.

“I don’t like this,” whispered Gilbert. Vidar shushed him.

They kept moving on, further into the map, and most likely towards danger. But the sooner the game ended, the sooner they could move on.

Gilbert slipped his hand into Vidar’s, and Vidar gave him a strange look. “Sorry,” he pulled away, “I’m tense.” He sure looked it.

Behind them, a twig snapped, followed by the rustling of leaves. Vidar picked up the pace, constantly glancing behind. The second he saw that little fucker, he was blasting paint like he was at a bukakke.

He almost shot a tree branch for moving too quickly.

Gilbert’s head was darting in every direction. This wasn’t supposed to be so scary, but even Vidar was on edge. He didn’t want his beautiful body bruised with bullets, paint or otherwise. It would hurt.

Another rustle, and they picked up the pace. There was nothing behind them, though. Vidar didn’t like this.

Another twig snapped, and Gilbert burst into a sprint. He lept over a trench, ducking past trees and firing wildly. Vidar cursed, and ran after him. The forest veered and swam in front of him, but he dared not stop. Just ahead, Gilbert threw himself over a hay bale, and immediately let out a scream. There was the sound of gunshots, and Vidar was helpless, unable to react as he watched Berwald jump up and start firing.

It was like being punched in the heart. Except he was shot in the heart from a metre away.

“Damn you, Berwald!”

Berwald gave him the smallest, but smuggest smile. Vidar walked around the bale to find Gilbert sprawled out across the floor, groaning and covered in paint. Tino was next to him.

“How the fuck did you manage to get ahead of us?” Vidar bent over, panting.

Tino frowned. “You ran right into us. It was a little ridiculous.”

“So it was Berwald stalking us through the forest?”

The pair shook their heads. “Nope. We were just sitting here, planning our next move,” said Tino.

Gilbert frowned. “So what was following us?”

Everyone turned to look behind them. There was nothing there. The forest was deadly silent, everyone frozen in place. Vidar smacked Gilbert’s arm.

“Idiot, there was nothing chasing us. We got freaked out over the wind.”

“Ow, sorry. I panicked.”

“Yeah, we all saw.”

...

Despite Tino doing everything in his power to kill the fun for the rest of the group, it had been a good day overall. The games where they were just allowed to let loose and shoot everyone were the best, since Tino tended to take out everyone. Even though he was a sore loser and worse winner, the rage and/or gloating tended to evaporate soon after each game ended.

But now it was the last event, the Hunger Games, and Tino was hunting, gun clutched to his chest. The klaxon had just sounded, and he was already on the move, peering through the trees for any sign of the enemy. He kept low, not the most difficult task for someone of his height. He felt like a wolf, moving in silence, looking for prey. He could hear very distant shouts, shrieks and gunshots, but no visuals just yet. Only trees and props.

But it wasn’t long before he found his first target. Oh, beloved Berwald, so blind. So oblivious. He was crouched behind a pile of logs, unfortunately, he had his back facing Tino, and that was his exposed side.

Tino shot him without hesitation.

Berwald made a strangled noise, turning around and giving Tino the most poisonous glare possible. He almost felt bad.

“Sorry, baby,” he tried. Was Berwald actually mad at him? Was this the end for them.

“Y’bastard,” Berwald joked, “y’cruel, backstabbin man.” He didn’t get up, instead lying in the dirt, pretending to choke on blood.

“I am, and you fell for it,” relieved, Tino crouched down next to Berwald, taking off his helmet and stroking his hair. “You fell for me, the homme fatale.” He kissed his nose.

“D’ya, regret it?”

“”No”, I lie.”

Something very hard, and very painful, hit Tino’s arm. He screamed, not from getting shot, but from the rage of losing so quickly. He threw his helmet on the floor.

“Ha!” cried Luca, “finally! Get rekt, noob!”

#sufin #APH Sweden #APH Finland #aph nordics #nedden #aph denmark #aph netherlands #aph luxembourg #APH Iceland #APH Norway #APH Prussia #shattered romanticism of a god #Hetalia fic #hws #Hetalia Fanfiction

12 notes · View notes

romaniassexdungeon · 4 years

Text

Just Kids - Chapter 48

Pairing: OzNZ

Warning: swearing

Oop, hello again. I know it's been a while, but here I am, with an OzNZ chapter this time. It's short, sorry, but I had fun with it.

Two of the handful of times I’ve left the house since March have been to the local canal for a walk. I started this chapter at some point last year, but it hits differently now. A lotta things do. Hope everyone’s doing okay in these strange times.

Also, writing this gave me flashbacks to when my brother and I were feeding ducks and he threw the duck food at me. Because he’s a little shit.

Read on AO3

...

It was freezing by the canal, but Hunapo didn’t mind. They were just happy to be out, even if it wasn't the most aesthetic place. The trees were bare and brown, not unlike the water in front of them. The grass was patchy, and there was already a pile of rubbish they’d collected in a bag at their feet, thankfully no longer endangering the wildlife. Hunapo wasn’t a violent person, but they’d be willing to slap anyone they caught dumping in the canal. Logan had even fished out a shopping trolley.

But there was beauty to be found, when Hunapo looked for it. There were no flowers yet, but a holly bush in someone’s garden twinkled with little red berries. The ducks were all huddled together on the water, watching them closely, hungrily. They were demanding more food. There were still patches of frost, lingering in the shade and making the ground look ghostly and shimmering. Some people still had Christmas decorations up, flashes of red and green hidden behind the paper snowflakes on the windows.

Hunapo had wrapped up warm, making Logan wait for them to do so until they’d waddled out in nearly half their clothes. He’d turned up an hour ago, with a six-pack and a defrosted bag of corn, to invite them along to feed the ducks. It wasn’t the big cats and reptiles of the zoo, but it was fun for Logan nonetheless. He loved all creatures equally, and so did they. He felt the cold more keenly than Hunapo, built for Australian summers, even after all this time. And yet, Logan had turned up in shorts. He was wrapped up in a puffy jacket, with fur-lined crocs, but still freezing. For some reason, completely unknown. A real mystery.

“There’s something you want to tell me, isn’t there?” They knew him pretty well at this point, and he was dancing around what he’d actually come round to tell them, pointedly listing duck facts without his usual passion. He didn’t even giggle when he told Hunapo about their corkscrew penises.

Logan turned his attention to the ducks, focusing intently on their squabbling over the food he was throwing.

“Maybe,” he mumbled.

“Take your time, bro. I know words are hard for a thick cunt like you.”

“Talking a lotta shit for a dickhead I could throw in the canal with one hand.”

“Damn, bruh, used all the words you know in one sentence.”

“Get fucked,” he nudged them, and they fell into silence again.

“I’d like to get a dog,” Logan blurted out, “a big, stupid, hairy one, y’know?”

“So one like you?”

“Shut up. Yes. Maybe. But they’re the best kind!” He grinned. “I mean, I love all dogs, but there’s just something about a big, fluffy idiot who thinks he’s a lapdog.”

Hunapo nodded.

“I don’t have the money for it, yet, but it’s something to work towards.”

“You’ll never feel your legs again, bruh.”

“A small sacrifice to pay for a big dog.” He fell quiet again. This was going to take a while, but Hunapo had time.

“I can’t wait for Spring,” they began, “like, when all the flowers start blooming and there are new ducklings. I love ducklings. They’re so fluffy and small and need help getting up steps.” Hunapo grinned; thinking of baby ducks warmed their heart.

“Poof.”

“Your brother know you say that?”

“Yes. That’s why I’m allowed to say that. He gave me a p-word card. Also I’m a poof myself, so I’ll say it if I want.”

“You are now?” They raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. I’ve told you I’m pan, right?”

“Probably.” Their heart did strange things at that. Not even at the thought of Logan being possibly interested in them, but even being around people like them, it was a comfort. Even in this small town, there was another LGBT, indigenous person they could hang out with.The two of them had more in common than they did differences. Even though Logan was an obnoxious cis guy, and Hunapo wasn’t looking after younger siblings he still could relate to other things Hunapo was going through. They could talk about anything at this point.

Except, apparently, whatever was troubling Logan.

“So-”

“Do you think ducks fall in love?”

“No. They only know the rule of beasts. They’re loveless.”

Logan looked at them. “You just said-”

“The babies are cute, but I don’t trust the adults. Same with people, sometimes.”

“If you don’t like aggressive birds, stay away from Oz.” He nudged them again. Two of the ducks started squabbling over bread.

“I was already planning to avoid the land of shit beer, shit fashion and racists.”

“I can’t even get offended; that’s just accurate. Actually, wait, there’s nothing wrong with the fashion.”

“Okay, Mr Shorts-and-Crocs.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s January.”

Logan shrugged. “Summer in the Southern Hemisphere.”

“We’re not in the Southern Hemisphere.”

Logan whined. “I wish we were. I’m cold.”

“I wonder why.”

“My jeans are in the wash. Covered in nut juice from all the meat I’ve been getting.”

“Right, sure. You’re gross.”

Logan winked. “You love it.”

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t, but it’s nice to see you back to your old self?”

Logan frowned at that, and paused in his corn throwing. “What do you mean?” An impatient duck climbed out and bit at his ankle for daring to stop providing food. “Cunt!” He jumped back, suppressed his fighting instincts telling him to boot the duck across the canal, and threw corn in its direction. When Hunapo had finally stopped laughing, Logan was trying to gently guide the duck back into the water with his foot. “Get in, you greedy cunt. I’ll fucking feed you, but you gotta piss off, cause I don’t trust you.” The duck flapped its wings indignantly, but eventually jumped back in the canal, giving Logan one last peck before going.

Hunapo smiled at him. “Anyway, what I meant was-”

“Oh yeah, my old self. What’s that about?”

“Nothing. You’ve just been quiet, that’s all. Like you’re avoiding telling me something.”

Logan squirmed. “I’m not. I just- Wanna date?”

“Huh?” Hunapo blinked at him. Was this one of his jokes? Something he’d blurted out by accident?

“I mean…” Logan was freezing, but he was starting to sweat now, “you, me, the pet shop.”

“Why the pet shop?”

“Free zoo.” A pause. “I’ll plan something nice. Maybe. If you want me to.” Another pause. “Do you?”

“I-”

“Cause, like, I’d understand if you need your own space, with everything that happened. Or if ya don’t fancy me. Can’t see why not, but Kiwis don’t have the best taste. I mean… please? If you want to-”

Hunapo rolled their eyes and silenced him with a kiss. Just a small one, before anyone else showed up and caught them, but it shut Logan up. “I’m glad you’ve finally asked,” they told him. “Took you long enough.”

Logan grinned, that goofy, earnest one Hunapo loved to see. “Wait, really?”

“Yes, really. I’m free all weekend, if that’s okay with you.”

“More than okay! I’ll get something planned. You won’t know what hit you, you’ll be so seduced and blown away.”

“By the pet shop?”

“Nah, something better, don’t you worry. Maybe a canal weekend, but we lose the "c".”

"How about something a bit more wholesome, for the first date?" Logan could do wholesome, if he really, really tried. Hunapo had seen it.

Logan nudged them. "Whatever you wish, baby."

#oznz #APH Australia #APH New Zealand #hetalia #Hetalia fic #just kids #Hetalia Fanfiction #hws #hws australia #hws new zealand

11 notes · View notes

romaniassexdungeon · 4 years

Text

Pretend - epilogue

Pairing: OzEst

Oh shit, we did it. Sorry for the delay, but here's the epilogue. Thank you to everyone who's read this far, and thank you to everyone who's been with us for the journey. It was a super fun, depressing ride for us as writers, and we hope it was too for you readers. Thanks again, Finn and Ciaran out

Also written by @kanz-frafka

Read full fic on AO3

...

Eliisabet was 67 when she saw her son get married.

She didn’t know what it was about this milestone that made her wonder just what she’d missed. If she could - maybe - put her pride aside to try and reconnect with him. Maybe it was just that after so many bad decisions, his life seemed to be on track. Despite marrying that awful Cooper man, maybe she could be proud of him one day.

All he needed was some guidance. And discipline.

She knew what she knew about the last fourteen-odd years through Layla, bumping into her at the supermarket. Neither was exactly fond of the other. She supposed Layla had more right to hate her than she would have liked to admit to herself, but it wasn’t as if Eliisabet was totally in the wrong. Logan was the boy who ran feral the way he did; that Cooper woman had no right to criticise her. She’d only been raising Eduard to behave.

It wasn’t like her to crash a wedding. Maybe when she was young and stupid she would’ve turned up somewhere unannounced, but 50 years did a lot to a person. She’d been worn down. Sometimes she felt nostalgic, but mostly she was embarrassed. She’d been so childish once. Anton, for all his flaws, had at least sanded off the edges in that respect.

She stepped inside. It was a small, tacky reception, but everyone was laughing and joking. Eduard was dancing with that Cooper man, and Eliisabet had never seen him smile like that. She couldn’t particularly remember him smiling, let alone in a truly happy way. He’d always been such a serious child. She couldn’t picture him, even then, running wild with Logan. Layla said he was just more comfortable in his presence. That was probably a jab at her parenting. Layla had a lot of those.

She watched him for a moment. He parted from Logan and grabbed Layla by the hand, spinning her under his arm and laughing.

Maybe she was the one Eduard felt comfortable around. Should Eliisabet be jealous of how her son looked at another woman? Layla hadn’t given birth to him, hadn’t raised him, not really. He hadn’t lived with her until he was practically an adult. But Layla was getting all the credit, all the wedding invites, all the family Christmas cards.

Of course, Layla was the one Eduard ran to when he was acting up. The one who coddled him through every bad decision. She had ruined him, let him think things were fair, fostered all the naivete he had until it got the better of him. Of course she was the one he invited. Eduard was easily led.

No wonder he ended up in hospital. Eliisabet didn’t even know what that was about, but she suspected it was that stupid Densen man. She’d warned Eduard about him. Or maybe it was Cooper. Or Eduard’s own terrible decisions. Either way, she’d said it was no good, that he could never be happy with a man. There was something unnatural about it, and the gays would never be happy going along with their nonsense. She normally wouldn’t think about it, but Eduard seemed determined to fetishise being with men. And where did that get him?

Except he looked overwhelmingly happy with Logan. Happier than Anton had ever looked in all the time they’d been married. She told herself it wouldn’t last, and stopped thinking about it.

He glanced back at him, still dancing with Layla, the brightest smile on his face. Tino was there too, drinking at his table. She hadn’t seen her nephew in even longer, and he didn’t look happy to see her. He was the first in the room to spot her. He fixed her with an icy look, then got up, tapping Eduard on the shoulder and whispering something in his ear. Eliisabet wondered if she should leave.

But then they met eyes. His smile dropped, like she would hit him if he kept it. He swung Layla into her husband and excused himself for a moment.

He was letting his emotions show. The boy was horrified, disgusted, a little scared. Then his face twisted into a scowl. Logan touched his shoulder, asked him a question, but he brushed him off, storming across the floor like a tornado in a tuxedo.

He’d grown, or maybe he was just shorter in her memories. He towered over a lot of the room, but the way he carried himself almost made him look smaller. There were ugly little raised scars on his face, none longer than her fingernail, but enough of them to make his whole face look ghastly. He really ought to have done something about them, especially if he was getting married. Nobody wanted to look at that.

“Eliisabet,” he said in a stiff voice. It stung, hearing him call her that. Deep down, she missed being his “Ema”, but there was no way she would say that. Especially when he was choosing to be so disrespectful.

“Eduard,” she said, just as frosty.

“What are you doing here?”

“It is your wedding. Your parents are supposed to be at your wedding.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t invite you.”

“Well, why didn’t you?”

“Why would I? You never turned up to anything else Mrs Cooper and I told you about. And more importantly: I don’t want you to be at my wedding .”

“Why does that matter? I should’ve been invited, as should your father.” Not that Anton would have shown his face. He missed his son, but would never admit it, not even at gunpoint. She’d still seen his glances at the one photo they kept out of him, a school photo. And she knew he was keeping the graduation photos Layla sent, hidden away somewhere after claiming he’d torn them up. Aside from the occasional rant about washing his hands of the boy, Anton never spoke of him.

“This is my wedding. I’m inviting people I love. You don’t- you don’t fit into that category.”

“Am I not good enough for you? I did everything to keep you happy. And you aren’t an easy person to keep happy.

Eduard wrinkled his nose; he wasn’t going to be persuaded this time. “You did nothing to keep me happy; you didn’t care if I was happy. Or eating. Or safe. To be honest, I think you preferred it when I was miserable.”

“You always were ungrateful. You know how hard it was to be your mother? I did everything I could.”

“You didn’t do shit.”

“I raised you. And you’re throwing it all back in my face.”

“You’ve been leaving me to fend for myself for as long as I can remember. You threatened me not to tell anyone because you knew it was wrong. You took every opportunity to make me feel like shit, you punished me for doing anything I enjoyed, you only cared about how smart I was, how quiet I was, how I made you two look, and you threw me out of the house when I wasn’t good enough for you and your impossible standards.”

“And it made you-”

“Shut up. Shut the fuck up. You were my parents. You were the only people I had in the world until I met the Coopers. I could’ve died so many times, and all you and Anton would’ve cared about was how right you were.”

“And we-”

“Eliisabet,” Eduard said firmly, “I don’t want to hear it. You’re too late. I don’t even believe you’re at all sorry. I don’t know what you want from me - money, an organ, a verbal punching bag, I don’t care. You’re not getting it. I mean, where were you when I graduated? When I went to hospital? Twice, actually.”

“I didn’t-”

“Don’t give me that. I know you know. I almost died and you couldn’t even be bothered showing your face.” He shook his head then waved her away. “And you know what? I’m glad. The last thing I needed was you acting like I was just doing it for attention, or whatever.”

“Eduard-”

“Just go. Alright? I don’t want you here. If you wanted to be a real mum, you should’ve started when I was a baby.”

Eliisabet glared at him. “That is no way to-”

“Go. Before I call security.”

Eliisabet reeled at that. She hated not being the one in control. “I am your mother, Eduard.”

“I have a mother, and she was never you.”

Eliisabet made a face like she was sniffing curdled piss, but backed down. She could bully Eduard all she wanted, but she would never plead with him. She turned around and walked out the room. Behind her, she heard Layla comfort him. She heard all the sharpness drain from his voice as she told him she was proud. What had he ever done to deserve her pride?

...

Layla was 52 when Eduard became her son.

No, that’s a lie. He always had been.

Layla was 52 when Eduard became her son -in-law. And she couldn’t have been more proud of her boys.

After standing up to Eliisabet, Eduard went back to Layla for another dance, brushing off her concern and pride alike. He seemed to have shrunk into himself a little - she always got under his skin - but once he started dancing with her, he became himself again.

He was doing that a lot now, becoming himself. His real self, not back to that scared kid Logan had dragged in all those years ago. Eduard talked to her about his life, what he was hoping to do in the future. Marry Logan, adopt the children, get a promotion, or even start his own business. He could do what he wanted, he told her. Logan insisted that his life wasn’t over once he reached his thirties. Layla laughed at that.

“I could build you a website for your art,” he told her, “or set you up on some of the existing sites, but they’ll want a share of the profit.”

“You think I could? I’m a little old for all that computer stuff.”

“Never too old to learn. I’ll set it up for you, and I’ll show you how to do it all by yourself,” he awkwardly patted her arm, and she hugged him in return.

“I’m proud of you, you know?” she told him, “I always have been.”

“I mean, I haven’t done anything pride-worthy,” he mumbled. “I never got into Cambridge, I would have lost my job by now with all my days off if I wasn’t skirting by on talent alone, I’m a messy, mentally ill disaster, I-”

“So? I’m proud of you. You’re a wonderful young man.”

Eduard looked like he was going to cry. “Really?”

“Really. I couldn’t imagine a better person for Logan.”

“Even…?”

“Well. Huna was good for him too. But you’ve always been like a son to me.” She patted her chest. “You’ve always had a special little place here.”

Eduard grinned. “I’m gonna tell them you said that.”

“Oh, please don’t.” She looked up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry, Huna!”

They laughed, Eduard leaning on her shoulder. “I miss them. I mean, not as much as Logan does - he still gets sad about them a lot - but they were a good friend.”

She nodded, a grim smile on her face. “They were always so easygoing with the family, you too. Now that I think about it, you’ve both always tried so hard to be part of the family, and you were all along.”

“When did you start thinking of me as…” Was it too forward to say-?

“My son?” Layla supplied. Eduard nodded. “I mean, you were always welcome, and after a few visits, I was already thinking of you as “one of the family” but then I found out about your parents and, well, I knew life was gonna be rough for you. I knew you needed someone behind you. And if that wasn’t going to be me and Logan - both of them, that is - who would it be?”

“I don’t know where I’d be if you hadn’t. Probably still with Gunner or something.” Or dead. He laughed but they both knew he meant it.

Layla took his hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “How is it all? How’s therapy?”

“Good. It’s actually been really helpful. Still a lot of days where… yeah. But mostly not as bad as… like, even a few months ago.”

“I’m so proud of you, you know that? So proud.”

Eduard nodded, and finally burst into tears.

“Oh no, oh, my baby, are you okay?” Layla was immediately up to hold him. Eduard clung to her. Layla smelt like home almost as much as Logan did. She smelt of the Coopers’ house - paint and freshly-made bread and the flowers Layla kept in a vase she’d let Logan and Eduard paint when they were little.

“I’m fine, mum,” he sobbed, “I just- I love you. So much.”

“I love you too, Eddie. You’re a wonderful young man.”

...

Jānis was 26 when he met a strange man.

He was outside smoking his way through an anxiety attack when the tallest human being he had ever seen awkwardly scooted up next to him. Jānis wasn’t sure whether or not to acknowledge him. He coughed. Jānis offered him a cigarette.

The man took it and thanked him. “Is this Eduard Mets’s wedding?”

Jānis nodded.

“Right, right,” the man handed him a parcel. “Wedding present. Can you make sure he gets it?”

“Don’t you want to go in and give it to him yourself?”

The man squirmed. “We’re… not on the best terms. And his husband told me to never bother them again.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You’re not his ex, are you? I’ve heard people talk about what happened. He was in hospital.”

“Not his ex, no. I just… I did some bad things. I want to make it right. Properly, this time.”

Jānis looked at him, frozen. He’d done bad things to Eduard, then? Should he refuse the man’s request, then? But what if he got upset? What if he got angry? What if Eduard got upset that he’d refused to take the present? Maybe he should not mention it to him. But then the guilt would eat at him for the rest of his life.

The man made a face. Guilt? Remorse? “Please,” he insisted, “I really am sorry. I- I know he won’t want to see me, but - please - give him this.”

For some reason, Jānis wondered if it was a bomb. Was he that sort of man?

“Who are you?”

“Lars,” he gave a cough, “Lars Mooren.”

He wasn’t Gunner, at least.

Jānis squinted. “Alright, I’ll give him your present.”

Lars broke into a smile - slight but relieved. “Thank you.”

“You’re sure I’m not going to get told off? I’m not being your messenger if it’s going to get me told off.”

“You’re a grown man, you’re probably not going to get told off.” He squinted at him and looked him up and down. “You- you are a grown man, right?”

“I’m just short,” he assured him.

“Sorry.”

“I get it all the time.” Jānis stubbed out his cigarette. “See you around?”

“See you around.”

He came back inside, clutching the present. Eduard and Logan were deep in conversation with someone’s distant relative. Eduard was clinging to Logan, looking down at him with more love than could be contained in one man. Scared to interrupt, Jānis stood there, attempting to be in Eduard’s line of sight, with the box in his hands. Eventually, he was noticed.

“Jānis!” Eduard smiled and wandered over, “you doing okay?”

He nodded, awkwardly thrusting the package into his hands. “From a… Lars?”

Logan and Eduard exchanged a glance.

“Where the fuck is he?” Logan grabbed Eduard’s arm protectively.

“Uh… he was outside. You know him? Tall guy?”

“Was? Where is he?” He flexed, looking around and making sure to keep as close to Eduard as possible.

Eduard stepped in front of him. “Hey. Baby, we’re not getting into a fight at our wedding, alright?

“But-”

“No. This is our night. Not his. We got a present out of it. Let’s just leave him alone.”

Logan opened his mouth, but his face softened. “Fine. Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s- it’s okay. But I’ve been sober a good while, I don’t want him to fuck that up. Let’s just take the present and carry on. Okay?”

Logan nodded. “Okay. Sorry baby. You’re right.” He reached up, kissing his forehead with a great deal of difficulty. “It’s our day.”

The whole time, Jānis was stood there with the present, feeling like shit. “So… do you want this, or…”

Eduard smiled at him. He wasn’t quite reassured. “Sure, give it here. Might as well get something out of him.”

He wondered if he should open it there. Seemed better to get it out of the way, rather than put it with the beautiful, unopened presents everyone else had gotten them. He looked at the pile. Reilly was feeling the presents again, trying to see what was inside.

“Oy,” Logan growled, “no peeking.”

Reilly scowled and went to dip chicken wings in the punch. Logan didn’t have the energy to stop it, turning back to Eduard and his present.

“It was nice of him to bring something. I guess.”

Logan leaned his head on his shoulder. “You don’t have to make excuses for him.”

“I’m not. But it was nice of him.” Eduard opened the present. It was a copy of Pulp Fiction .

“You know what? Tarantino sucks, but another DVD for the collection’s another DVD for the collection.”

“We’ll put it behind something,” Logan nudged him.

Eduard nodded and put the DVD on the table. “Doesn’t matter. It’s our day, not his.” He took Logan’s hand. “And I want to dance with my husband.”

...

Harry was 16 when she fell in love for the first time.

The wedding was a lot of fun. She hadn’t been to one since her dad and Hunapo’s. She’d been allowed to invite some school friends, but honestly, they were outgrowing each other. Cassandra always hung out with Melissa’s lot these days. Plus there was the boy talk. Cass had always been the type to fawn over celebrities and dumbasses in the year above, but lately it was bothering her more and more that she couldn’t relate.

She’d rather be with Josefina anyway. She’d come along with João, but other than him and Harry she was alone, sitting quietly at her table and eating breadsticks. Harry waited for an out from her great-uncle’s monologue about his own wedding, then went over to her table.

“Josefina!”

She looked up from eavesdropping on her dad’s conversation. Her eyes lit up and she hugged her. “Harry! You alright?”

“Yeah. You look lovely. I mean- the dress does. And also you. Your hair.”

“Thanks. You look lovely too. You make a nice… bridesmaid? Is that a thing when there isn’t a bride?”

Harry shrugged. “Dad doesn’t do tradition. Ed does. It was a weird compromise.”

“It looks nice on you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean… you always look nice.”

“I do?”

“You do.”

They were quiet for a long moment. Nobody was quite sure where to go with the conversation.

“I’m sorry,” Josefina mumbled, “I suck at people.”

“It’s alright, mate. I still like you.”

Josefina laughed. It registered to Harry that she had just said something unbelievably dorky.

“Parties just get me all overwhelmed. Not that this isn’t lovely.”

Harry thought for a moment. “There’s a whole building. Doesn’t stop at this hall.”

“You wanna, what, sneak off? Isn’t this your dad’s wedding?”

Harry shrugged. “Second wedding. Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

She laughed. “Aren’t you a romantic?”

“Do you wanna go explore this place or not?”

Josefina thought about it, stuffed a canape into her mouth, and gave Harry her hand. “Let’s do it.”

Harry led her out. A flight of stairs was roped off, but she lifted it for Josefina to duck under.

“You sure we’re allowed?”

“It’s a rope, not a cop.”

That didn’t stop them tiptoeing their way up the stairs nervously, as if they’d be caught at any moment.

“What are we even looking for?”

“Somewhere to hang out, I guess.”

The stairs took them up to a little dark corridor.

“This is kinda creepy. I like it though.”

She puffed out her chest and tried to look tough. “I can beat up any ghosts that try to bother you.”

Josefina took her hand. Harry immediately dropped the act. How was she meant to be tough now?

She smiled up at her. “Thank you.”

“Uh huh.” Smooth, Harry.

“Where do we go from here?”

“Pick a door, any door.”

Josefina grinned at her and went for the closest one, still holding onto her hand. “Locked.”

“Shit. Try this one?”

Josefina managed to open it this time, revealing the perfect little room. There were chairs dotted around and little boxes of miscellaneous stuff shoved into a corner. Harry flicked on the light switch. “Jackpot.”

They plopped themselves down on the floor, ignoring the chairs.

“Nice little spot,” Josefina decided, making herself comfortable. Suddenly, Harry imagined people asking them how they met at parties like this one, well into the future. Her dad ran my dad’s NA meetings. Maybe a bit of a downer, but a story was a story.

“You know what it needs?” Harry asked, lying on her back to rest her legs on a chair, “Snacks.”

“Which ones?”

“Dunno. Shoulda grabbed a plate of those wings from the buffet. And some sweet stuff too.”

Josefina hopped up to her feet. “I’ll be back in a second.” She winked Harry’s way and disappeared.

Harry lay on the floor, eyes on the ceiling. Her heart was going pretty fast - was there red bull in that lemonade she’d had? She hadn’t been running but her heart was trying to find its way out of her ribcage. Maybe she was having an allergic reaction.

To Josefina? Who was she kidding?

Josefina came back with two glasses in one hand, a plate piled with buffet food in the other, and a bottle of wine tucked under her arm.

Harry grinned at her. “Josie! Here, let me help you with that.”

She gave Harry the plate, then put the wine carefully down on the floor and sat down facing her. “It’s more like “Juicy”.”

“What?”

“Not Josie. Portuguese names, man. Joo -sefina.”

Harry laughed. “Alright, Juicy, then.”

“You’re gonna be calling me that forever now, aren’t you?”

“Forever,” she nodded, mouth full of sandwich.

Josefina chuckled and poured them each a glass of wine, just as Harry started singing to her.

“Blame it on my juice, blame it, blame it on my juice, baby.”

“Blame what on your juice, exactly?”

“Huh? I don’t know.”

“Well, as the juice, I wanna know what it is I’m getting accused of.”

“Underage drinking, apparently.”

“You don’t have to have any if you don’t want it.”

“No, I want some.” She took the glass off her and took a long slurp. She made a face.

Josefina laughed. “You like it?”

“Sour.”

“I’ll have it if you don’t want it.”

“I’ll adjust,” she assured her, taking another sip, “Since we’re celebrating.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

“In that case,” Josefina raised her glass. “Cheers!”

Harry clinked their glasses together. “Cheers!”

“You sure you’re okay, missing out?”

“It’s fine. Got to get away from all the distant relatives somehow. Like, yeah, I know I’ve gotten bigger, Gran, that’s how human bodies work. I shouldn’t be mean to my gran though. She’s cool. She’s a painter and stuff. And my Granddad’s a musician, he has all these guitars and...” And she was rambling. Fuck.

“They sound nice!”

Josefina was grinning at her. Harry was just focusing on not spilling her wine. “They are nice. They really like Ed too. He and my dad go way back. Like, Ed helped look after me when I was little and he and dad were in uni. I barely even remember it, but I remember Ed used to sing to me sometimes if I couldn’t sleep. And dad would stand in the doorway and pretend like he wasn’t watching him. And then Dad married Huna, who was great, and I still miss them, but after that Ed was just… I dunno. Gone. Next time I saw him, I only, like, kind of recognised him. Not just because it had been a long time ago either. He looked different. And that was right after Huna died too, and everything was a mess and he was just kind of there, sitting at the side. He was… dunno. Must have had some mental health stuff going on, now I look back at it, ‘cause he barely ever left his room, but he told me and Rei how he was actually a super cool ninja and-” She trailed off. Josefina was looking down at her knees. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you this shit.”

“You’ve got quite the family life, huh?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. I think the ninja thing was a lie. He’s kind of a weenie.”

Josefina nodded in agreement. “What do you think happened?”

“No idea. They never let me listen, and Ed’s too quiet to eavesdrop on.”

Josefina raised her glass. “To fucked up families.”

“To fucked up families. And to my dads.” Harry clinked their glasses together.

“Gotta love fucked up families.”

“You too, huh?”

Josefina took a sip. “He’s been clean a while now, but my dad… he overdosed when I was little. Like, 8, maybe? By accident, of course. And I found him and I thought maybe he was dead. And my mum broke up with him, and I didn’t see him again for like three years because she wouldn’t let me. I’d hear him call sometimes, and she’d usually be shouting at him, and then eventually she let me go over to his, just for a day. It was a good day. He treated me.Took me out bowling, to the museum. I was just happy to see my dad again, you know, we’ve always been close. And after that it was a weekend, And then every weekend, and now we have a good routine going, I’m at his every other week, and they’re on speaking terms again. But it was rough when I was little.”

Harry wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. She opened her mouth, but didn’t know what sounds to make with it. She settled for wrapping an arm around Josefina. She leaned her head against Harry’s shoulder.

“My first step-parent died when I was 12.” She wondered if this sounded like she was making this about herself. She wished she could stop running her mouth sometimes. “And I’ve never met my mum. Or, I probably have, because I’ve been in her pussy, but you know what I mean.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s… I have Dad. And I had Huna. And I have Ed now. I don’t think I need a mum.”

“Still. Hard to lose someone.”

She nodded. “Hard. I think Ed tried to kill himself. About two years ago. He and dad never tell me anything, but I’m not stupid.”

Josefina nodded. “More wine?”

Harry held out her glass. “Please.”

They sat in silence together. Not awkwardly, not desperately searching for words to fill the air. Just drinking in one another’s warmth. The music downstairs was muffled, but it was loud. She heard a song Eduard liked to play in the car, or while he was baking, shimmying his shoulders as he pummeled dough into the counter. She didn’t know its name, but it made her smile. She found herself tapping her fingers in time against Josefina’s shoulder. She picked up on it and stood up, her hand outstretched to her.

“Dance with me?”

“With- yeah!” She took her hand and pulled herself up. “I don’t know how to-”

“You don’t have to. Just move in whatever way you want.”

“Alright. I can do that.”

She tried not to look too much like her dad’s dancing and failed spectacularly, but it was worth it - Josefina was grinning and the room was lighting up. On impulse, Harry took her hands and swayed them. Josefina went a little pink, but she held onto Harry’s hands.

“See? You’re a good dancer.”

“Well, you’re teaching me. I’m learning from the best.”

“You’re a good learner though.”

...

Tino and Lyubov were 32 when they each gave a speech at their best friends’ wedding.

Tino’s was funny to no one except him, Logan and Eduard. He tried to not make the jokes too dark - it was a wedding, after all - but Eduard had given him the task of keeping it lighthearted and giving that job to Tino only ever went one way.

“He was always a bit nerdy,” Tino was saying, “film nerd, computer nerd, regular nerd. I always thought he needed to go outside and “Marvel” at a pair of titties for once.”

Everyone laughed, even Eduard. Logan started making his pecs dance under his shirt. He laughed harder, blushing.

“He was lovely to have as a cousin, though,” Tino continued, “when the family got together for Christmas and my parents were throwing plates at each other and Ed’s parents were bitching about everything and Vanaema was silently writing them all outta her will, Ed and I would go upstairs. We’d play games and stuff, but one year, we were about thirteen, Ed went on his new laptop, typed in “naked women” on Google Images, then got so scared at his dad finding out he cried until he threw up.”

Eduard buried his face in his hands. He’d tried to forget that.

“He then chucked water over the laptop and buried it in the garden. When his dad asked about it, a few weeks later, he told him he was mugged on the way to school.”

Eduard made a face. He’d been grounded for that. They said he should’ve been more careful. No wonder he always went to Mr and Mrs Cooper for, well, everything. Advice, food, affection, even love. It was a small comfort that the Coopers loved him, when compared to the people who were supposed to be his parents. Eliisabet had carried him for 8 months, given birth to him, and neither she nor Anton appeared to muster even the smallest affection for him.

It was a depressing train of thought to be inspired by his Best Man’s speech. His mother’s appearance had shaken him a little. Logan squeezed his hand.

“I do love him, though,” Tino continued, “and I’m so, so glad we ended up being friends. He’s smart and he’s kind and he’s the strongest person I know, even though he’s got the arms of a blow-up sex doll and a torso Ethiopian children would donate food to.”

No one was laughing, except Logan, loud and thunderous in the stone-cold silence. He slammed his hand on the table, whilst, next to Tino, Berwald looked like he wanted to sink into the ground. Eduard just had no idea how to react. He should’ve proof-read Tino’s speech first. The worst thing was, he kind of wanted to laugh too.

“I’ve never known a better friend. I’ve never known anyone so resilient. And I’ve never known a better match for him than Logan, even if the bar there is low. No offence, Lyubov.”

Both Eduard and Lyubov stared awkwardly at their plates, but neither minded. Eduard would always love Lyubov, but as a dear friend, and that was okay. He needed good friends to keep him out of trouble. She was good for a little bit of quiet. They met up for coffee when they could.

“I realised Logan was perfect for Eduard when someone who will remain nameless - let’s just call him Captain Smegma - got himself injured. Captain Smegma really fucked things up for Ed. And my first thought when he got injured was that Logan did it. My second thought was that Logan would do it. My third was that anyone who would beat the shit out of Captain Smegma for Ed was the right guy for him. He needs people behind him. And if the time they accidentally butt-dialed me is any indication, Logan’s happy to be behind him.”

Eduard buried his face in his hands. Tino leaned over to him. “Suffer.”

“Knee-dialed, actually.”

“Doesn’t change things.”

“When is this speech planning on ending?”

“I’ve got pages of this.”

“I hate you.”

“This is the build-up, man. You haven’t even heard the climax. Much unlike me, the time you knee-dialed me.”

“I will go back in time and murder our Vanaema so neither of us have to exist.”

“After hearing that? Not complaining. You moan like a hentai girl.”

“Tino!”

Lyubov nodded in agreement. So did Logan.

“Traitors!”

“Anyway,” Tino stood up straight, addressing the other guests again, who had just had to learn more than they would have liked about Eduard’s moaning habits. “the truth is, I always knew Logan was the guy for Eddie. He was the one making plan after plan to save him when he was going through hell with Captain Smegma and he’s the one who’s taken care of Ed since we were kids. He’s kind. And he makes Ed smile like I don’t think anyone else can.”

Eduard looked at Logan and smiled.

“See? Like that. Sickening.”

Logan smiled back and kissed him. 16-year-old Eduard was quaking. He felt warm and safe, like everything was going to be okay. People started clapping. They were clapping for him and Logan, and their happiness. The room was full of people who wanted the best for him, who wanted him and Logan to feel safe and be in love. He wasn’t a fan of being clapped for, but it still made him grin through his blushing.

He’d never been alone. It was just Gunner had been very talented in convincing him otherwise. And now the trick had worn away, Gunner was out of his life, and things were looking up.

He’d won.

“Logan and Eduard, everybody. Lubey, take the floor.” The polite shower of clapping didn’t drown out Logan laughing at “Lubey”.

Lyubov got up, adjusting her dress and trying not to look nervous. “Not quite sure how I’m going to live up to that speech, but I’ll do my best. I- I met Ed and Logan at uni, and-” She was already tearing up. “And now they’re here. When Ed asked me to be his - and I quote - second best woman, I… well, initially I wondered if your ex doing a speech at your wedding is a little frowned upon. Logan told me to suck it up and do it. He also requested that I tell the next person who tells me I’m brave for being up here to shush. Or, something a little less nice.”

She glanced around, fiddling with the strap on her dress.

“Despite everything,” Lyubov continued, “I’m glad to have grown up with them. We were a right little squad, Eduard, Logan, me,” she faltered, “Hunapo. Honestly, I’d always thought nothing would change if Ed and Logan got together. Weird thing to think about your boyfriend, but it is what it is. They loved each other. I didn’t like thinking about it back then, but now it feels right, seeing them together.” She tipped her glass at Logan. “No hard feelings. You and Ed are made for each other.”

Logan smiled sheepishly.

“I could talk about all their embarrassing moments,” she continued, “especially Ed’s, but it just feels too mean.”

“Coward,” Tino called out.

She ignored him and raised her glass. “To Logan and Eduard, the most amazing couple I know.”

...

Logan Sr was 56, far too old to have his tie around his forehead and sing classic rock with the wedding band, but he was going to do it anyway. His boys were happy, he’d consumed his weight in lager, and he was going to have fun. And when he was eventually kicked off the stage, he went to tearfully congratulate the happy couple.

“My boys! ”

Logan begrudgingly accepted his rib-crushing hug. “Have you had a few too many, dad?”

“Nonsense.” He kissed his cheek. He had a very wet mouth. “I’ve had just enough.”

“So, no more?”

“Well, I didn’t say that. ” He laughed and tried to look Eduard straight in the eyes. His height made it very difficult but he figured it out eventually. “Eduard.”

“Yeah?”

“Give me your face.”

“My- what?”

“I can’t reach it. Could you be a dear and crouch down a little for me?”

Feeling a little bit stupid, Eduard arranged his legs into a squat. “Is this okay?”

“Perfect.” Logan Sr put his hands on either side of his face. “I just- I wanted to tell you. I remember when you were a tiny little boy. You were so small.”

“Thank you.”

“I mean, you looked about four until you were fifteen! You shot right up! All of a sudden my son’s best friend was a skyscraper!”

“I remember.”

“You got so lovely and tall. And lovely. You turned into such a lovely man.”

Eduard glanced at his husband for rescue but Logan was too busy trying not to fall off his chair laughing. Traitor.

“You’ll be good to my Loggie, won’t you? Even though he smells a bit funny sometimes.”

“I will. Promise.”

He hugged him. “You were always such a sweet kid. It was a shame about your parents. And ears.”

“What’s wrong with my ears?”

“Nothing, son. You grew into them.”

“You did,” Logan Jr agreed.

Eduard sighed. “I did.” He saw the school photos every day on his way to bed. He’d looked like a satellite with a bowl cut.

“But look at you now! You’re so grown up! You’re getting married! You’re tall!”

“Well. It comes with being 32.”

“Such a tall man. And a good one! You look after my little boy, won’t you?”

“I promise.”

“Logan, you look after my other little boy.”

“We’ll take care of each other,” Logan promised, “Why don’t you sit down for a bit?”

Logan Sr nodded. “Might be best, son.” He let the couple carry him back to his seat, and wife.

“Having fun?” asked Layla, the skin around her eyes crinkling.

“Yes dear,” he kissed her cheek. “Just saying how proud I am of the boys. Look at them! Married!” He patted Eduard’s jacket. “After everything, you’re still standing, both of you.”

Eduard pulled him into a hug, burying his face in the man’s wild, curly hair. “I love you too, dad,” he mumbled.

...

Logan and Eduard were 32 when they finally got married.

As everyone was winding down, Reilly having finally wheeled themself to exhaustion and fallen asleep on Layla’s lap; Harry still nowhere to be seen, huddled up in a strange corner of the venue with Josefina; and Lyubov currently trying to outdrink Tino and sing all the parts of Bohemian Rhapsody; Logan and Eduard escaped outside into the garden.

“Good day?”

Eduard nodded.

“Shame about your mum. And Lars.”

Eduard shrugged. “I can handle Lars. I think he was genuinely trying to say sorry. I don’t want to see him, but the sentiment’s there.”

“And your mum?”

“My mum doesn’t even know I did drugs. Or tried to kill myself. Or anything .”

“Back when we were kids, “my mum doesn’t know about the drugs” was a good thing.”

Eduard laughed. “I mean, yeah, but I’m a grown-up now. And I almost died.”

“Don’t think you’d have had to worry about that back then.”

“How so?”

“Because, Eddie, you were too much of a dweeb to get your hands on any.”

“Fair.”

There was no one around, so Eduard took a chance and kissed Logan’s cheek. Logan smiled and kissed his back.

“I love you,” he whispered. Eduard nodded.

“I love you too. Thanks for… well, thanks for everything. Thanks for marrying me.” Did he sound stupid? He felt like he sounded stupid. Logan still looked at him like he wasn’t, though.

“Well. It’s been years since I’ve seen you in a suit. You really pull them off.”

“You say that like you’re wanting to do the honours for me,” he teased.

“Well… maybe after everyone’s gone home.”

“Maybe?”

“Maybe, maybe.”

They drifted into comfortable silence. Logan watched him as they rambled through the garden, amongst hedgerows and neat flowerbeds. He looked at Eduard not only like he was worth something, but that he was the most important person in the world. Once or twice, he got so distracted watching him that he walked straight into a hedge. Eduard pretended not to notice, but he was blushing in the gloom.

Logan smiled to himself, looking down at his shoes. The flowerbed was rich with plant life, neat little stones almost hidden in the gloom. He bent down and picked up an especially smooth one.

“What’s that?” asked Eduard, watching him wipe compost off it.

“Wedding gift,” he replied. “Good things happen when I get you a rock.” He passed it to Eduard, who looked down at it in silence. It was grey and cool, and fit happily in his palm. “I know it doesn’t have any fossils,” he added, “but it’s still a cool rock.”

“I like a cool rock,” Eduard leaned against Logan’s arm, admiring the stone before slipping it into his pocket. It would go nicely with the first rock Logan gave him, on his shelf, in his and Logan’s bedroom.

“I think things are looking up,” Logan stroked his hair. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but we got a lotta life ahead of us.”

Eduard nodded. “I think we’re gonna be okay.”

#ozest #APH Australia #APH Estonia #hetalia #aph finland #aph ukraine #aph netherlands #APH Latvia #aph oc #pretend #Hetalia Fanfiction

10 notes · View notes

romaniassexdungeon · 5 years

Text

Shattered Romanticism of a God - Chapter 12

Pairing: NedDen, SuFin main

Warnings: Drugs, alcohol

Notes: A NedDen chapter, for a change. It'll get back to the SuFin next time, whenever I get round to writing that. This chapter is a little shorter than I'm happy with, though.

Gunner - Denmark // Adriaan - Netherlands

Read the full fic on AO3

...

“So, you’re just gonna stand over me while I get ready? Like a creep? Like a creepy watching creep?” Gunner elbowed his cousin away from the mirror, then went back to straightening his hair, trying to get the angle it stuck up at just right, like it would remain that way for long. Berwald just nodded. Then he stood right back behind him and messed his hair up.

“Cunt! Cause I did it to you?”

Another nod. Gunner smoothed out his stupid Hawaiian shirt and went back to fixing his hair, chucking his gel on his bed. Berwald untucked his shirt.

“Will you leave me alone! I’m not even going on a date,” he said, sticking out his tongue. He paraded about the main room, checking how his ass looked in his jeans. Perfect, as always. "Just going for a drink. No need to try and ruin everything, you sad, pathetic man."

“L’ser.”

“I only hang out with you cause you can sing.”

“And y’love me.”

“Shut up,” he flicked him, “maybe if you could act like a person, your boyfriend would’ve known you were dating.”

“Adriaan kn’w you’re dating?”

“We’re not! Sex isn’t dating; if it was, I’d be dating your mum.”

“Which ‘ne?”

“The hot one. Whichever one you’re thinking of, you just called hot. You called your mum hot. That’s weird.”

Berwald blinked at him, debating on whether or not he should even respond to Gunner's middle school-level attempts at trolling. “We’re cousins. Yer weird.”

“Not interested in some sweet home Valhallabama?”

“My mums aren’t interested in men. ‘Specially their nephew.”

Gunner shrugged. “I know. But that pun.”

Berwald gave him a very concerned look.

“Please don’t tell them,” Gunner whined, “I want to be invited round for Christmas.”

“Gonna text ‘em now.”

Gunner gave a whine, trying to swat his phone away.

“Text ‘em.”

“You’re a prick!”

“Joking,” Berwald gave a rare smile, “tol’ Tino I hoped he w’s having a good night.”

“I hate you.”

He grunted in response. Gunner looked at him.

“By the way, have you told Tino about all your… stuff?”

"M'huge dick?"

"Yeah, right. You know what I'm talking about."

Berwald shook his head, squirming. “Third date st’ff.”

“No, that’s fingering,” said Gunner. “Look, he’s not gonna judge you, and if he does, I’ll get the band to beat him up.”

“Dun do that,” he played with his jumper, kneading the fabric.

“Hey, any guy would be lucky to have you.” Gunner lightly nudged his shoulder. “And Tino seems to like you. He’s not gonna be a dick.”

Berwald didn’t look convinced. “Y’told Adriaan y’have feelings fer him?”

“Don't try and change the subject when I'm trying to have a moment with you. And I don’t! No stoner with a jumbo guitar’s gonna tie me down.”

Berwald looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

Gunner shook his head. “Whatever. I’m going out!”

“Not picking y’up.”

“Won’t need it,” he put on his coat and straightened his tie, “just going for a few drinks, then home.”

...

It was never a few drinks with Gunner, and, at 2am, he found himself in the snow outside the bar. He’d just been dumped there after throwing up on the pool table, and got to work making snow angels, giggling the whole time.

He probably needed an angel of his own to get him home.

When it was starting to get less comfortable to be lying in the street, he scrambled for his phone, distracted by the stars. Or the street lamps. One of them, but they were shining prettily above his head like spaceships. Maybe it was all of them. Was he about to be abducted?

He finally found his phone, hiding at the bottom of his jeans pocket. Who could he call to come get him this time? Not Berwald, he’d just be mean, and was probably already in bed. He tried to get to sleep by 8 like a granddad. Tolli was probably asleep too, or jacking off to Sportarobbie fanfiction, Vidar would watch the phone ringing and not bother picking up and Gilbert was probably also in bed, ready for church the next day. Luca had blocked his number after Gunner had accidentally sent him a dick pic meant for his brother. And Gunner would take his chances in a Saw movie before getting into a car with Tino.

Adriaan it was.

He sent him a text that he hoped was legible, then hauled himself up to wait. He leaned against the pub wall, not liking how the snow was now soaked into his jeans, but not having the presence of mind to do anything about it.

After five seconds of nothing, he typed out a poorly-worded plea, then settled down to wait.

...

Adriaan took his sweet, sweet time.

He eventually rolled into view, on his bike. Not even a tandem for them both, but a regular bike Gunner had to somehow get on. He got up from his snow-chair, giving a whine.

“Why did you bring your bike?” Gunner leaned against a lamppost. Adriaan stared at him. “Dude.”

“Huh?”

“The bike?”

“Don’t wanna IDC.”

“What?”

“DUI. I said… DUI.”

“Oh you’re stoned.”

“Are you surprised?” Adriaan broke into a grin. His high grins were always unnerving, not like his genuine ones.

“Guess not. Do I- do I get on front?” He staggered over to the bike and climbed onto the handlebars.

Adriaan shrugged. “Do what you want. I'm just here to "pock you ip, okease?".”

"Shut up!" He turned around and kissed him. “Onwards, Bike-man!”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Bike-chan?”

“Weed.”

“You mean weeb?”

Adriaan paused. “Yeah.” He got cycling, through the tourist-filled streets, ignored by everyone else, also staggering home. Gunner gave a whoop as they turned a corner. Lights blurred past him, expanding and criss-crossing in front of his eyes. He leaned against Adriaan’s chest, and Adriaan pushed him forward.

“I’m trying to drive,” he grumbled.

"Drive me to Germany! I don't wanna pay Swedish prices anymore!"

Adriaan looked at him. "You just did. All night."

“Boo! Wanna go to the park?” asked Gunner, ignoring him, “come on there it is!”

Adriaan brought the bike to a halt. “It’s a roundabout.”

“I wanna stargaze!” Gunner rolled off the handlebars and kissed Adriaan’s cheek. “Let’s lay on the grass and look at the stars!”

Luckily, there weren’t any cars on the roundabout, as Gunner didn’t even bother to check before stumbling out onto the road. Adriaan followed him on bike, more aware of his surroundings, but only barely.

Gunner watched Adriaan park his bike, then lie down in the snow next to him. There was no one about, just them and the stars that battled their way through the glow of the street lamp a few metres away.

"I think I can see All-Iron!" He pointed up at the blurred trio of stars. "Or is that the Plough? I wanna plow you later."

“Be free, grasses.”

Gunner sat up to find Adriaan wiping at the snow next to him. The frozen grass below didn’t look too free, but Adriaan seemed happy with himself nonetheless.

"Good idea, babe." Gunner grinned and began making snow angels. They were a little lopsided, and he ended up kicking Adriaan in the ankle. Adriaan grunted, but didn’t react otherwise.

"Sorry Adi. Ryan. Addi Reean."

"Gun man."

Gunner smiled. It was perfect. Everything was perfect with Adriaan, it always was. He was a dick, but there was a gem inside. A dick gem. A dickjazzle. He was always there for Gunner, maybe a little reluctantly, but he'd bring his bike and a few beers and a joke for him. Berwald's words were squirming around in the back of his head.

"Hey, Weed Man?" He turned to him. Adriaan glanced back.

After a pause, he remembered to reply. "Yeah?"

"Are we dating?"

After an excruciating moment of silence, as Adriaan tried his best to think, he shrugged. “Dunno. Are we?”

“You tell me.”

“Do you… wanna?”

“Date? Maybe. Might be fun.” Maybe Gunner really, really wanted to. But Adriaan was hard to read, even after all these years. Friends with benefits seemed like the best it was gonna get, the closest he could get to Adriaan. Could they actually become a couple? Would that ruin everything? Would it make everything way, way better?

“I’m gonna kiss you now, if that’s okay.”

Adriaan nodded. Gunner, grinning, leaned over and gave him an awkward peck on the lips, Adriaan’s nose poking his cheek. He looked down to find Adriaan smiling back. They kissed again, just a second longer, but just as magical.

“I like kissing you,” Gunner said, feeling like an idiot. “You’re cute. You’re a bastard, but you’re cute.”

“You after a few, then?”

“I’m fucking cunted, mate.” He rested his head on his chest. “And you… you came to my rescue. I fucking love you, man.”

Adriaan looked at him for a long moment. Had Gunner gone too far? He wasn’t sober enough to care past a niggling concern, but Adriaan wasn’t replying. Eventually, he gave a cough.

“Thanks.”

#nedden #aph denmark #aph netherlands #sufin #APH Sweden #hetalia #shattered romanticism of a god #Hetalia fic #Hetalia Fanfiction

11 notes · View notes

romaniassexdungeon · 5 years

Text

Just Kids - Chapter 47

Pairing: HuttMol

Notes: Not a big, dramatic chapter. Just a HuttMol date. This isn't my proudest or best chapter. It's just pointless fluff, and not even that well written or important, sorry. But if you like cute dates, then that's enough. There'll be more plot next chapter. :)

Oscar - Hutt River // Mike - Molossia

Read on AO3

...

The main takeaway from the next meeting - Saturday morning at the end of the first week back - was that the website needed more attention. Messages had trickled to a halt over the holidays, like everyone had forgotten the site existed. It needed to be promoted everywhere, not just with posters that kept getting defaced. They needed to modernise. Everyone was to promote the absolute shit out of the website in every social media they had, if they hadn’t already. For Oscar, that meant doing nothing, because he had no social media accounts to post on. None at all.

It baffled Mike.

Even his mum was online, posting horrendous conservative memes about various minorities until he'd blocked her. He'd wondered why Oscar hadn't added him on anything. But at least it gave him the opportunity to read out what he considered his funnier tweets, on a variety of topics from American politics to BBC Sherlock. Except most of them went over Oscar’s beautiful, but Australian, head.

“Well you should watch the news more often,” he grumbled, putting his phone away.

“Why? I’m depressed enough as it is.”

“Fair enough,” Mike contemplated putting his arm around Oscar, but he couldn’t risk it. There was only a handful of old people on the bus, but anyone from school could get on. Or see from the street. He didn't want to get into a confrontation because it wouldn't be the one incident. It would continue for the rest of their school lives and drive them to the brink of sanity. And make things unsafe, worst case scenario. Even the best case scenario probably involved drama. Mike was a social vegetarian: he didn't do beef.

The house would be empty later. They could always kiss there.

It was a wonderful relief when they got off at the garden centre, and Mike’s mind was occupied with a squabble over whether or not they should get a trolley.

“Come on,” Mike whined, “my grandpa gave me so much Christmas money! I wanna get loads of stuff for spring! I don’t think he’ll be sending any more, not after what Mom’s gonna tell him.”

Oscar rolled his eyes. “Fine, but I probably won’t get much.”

“That’s okay,” Mike took a trolley and browsed the flower displays by the door, “you can help me plant stuff.”

“Doesn't look like there's much in stock, though,” said Oscar as they walked inside.

“Yeah, but the home decor section is gonna be fun. Winter stuff on sale.”

“I hate winter,” Oscar grumbled. Mike smiled at him.

“Me too, but I still appreciate the aesthetic. You know, I got really excited, the first time I saw snow.”

Oscar rolled his eyes, smiling. “Me too, but it gets old. I’m just a baby about the cold.”

“You’re my baby,” Mike mumbled, glancing around. No one heard. Oscar smiled at him, putting a little succulent in the trolley.

“One small thing,” he said, “and we can’t grow anything outside yet.”

“Yeah. I’m gonna stock up on seeds anyway, though. Never know when it’ll get sunny again.”

“How about never?”

“Hey, we can’t both be the pessimist here.”

“I don’t think you’re a pessimist,” said Oscar, “I mean, you can try all you want, but you’re nice and sweet and this little ray of sunshine. That swears. You’re grumpy, but you’re not cynical. You're too American to be.”

Mike smiled, despite himself, and loaded up on seeds. “Come on. Let’s look at the animals!”

He grabbed Oscar’s wrist, and dragged him over to the pet section. Oscar smiled and let him; there was little chance of finding anyone here. The only people remotely their age were small children with their parents, too distracted by a pen of rabbits to stare at some gay guys. Oscar and Mike decided to keep things platonic, though.

Mike awkwardly waited for the children to move on, so he could fawn over the rabbits himself. Oscar smiled, watching him. Charlie was always pestering Logan for a rabbit, but they weren’t allowed pets in their rented house. The rule broke both his brothers’ hearts, and Oscar’s too. He wouldn’t mind a rabbit. Or a cat.

Mike stared, adoringly, at the rabbits, then moved on to the guinea pigs. Oscar followed along, letting him ramble as he watched fat hamsters climb on top of their little wheel, only to fall into their thick bed of straw. He smiled at them.

Mike turned a corner, finding a menagerie of reptiles. He particularly liked the dopey geckos and tiny tortoises in their tanks. The snakes didn’t do much, but he loved them too. Oscar was less keen, but he watched Mike coo and fuss over them regardless.

When he’d had his fill, and moved on to the fish, Oscar spoke up.

“I’m gonna go look at the home living section,” he said, “I wanna get a new throw for my bed.”

“More?” Mike raised his eyebrow. Oscar’s bed was almost hidden by layers of blankets, all the Cooper siblings had them. And thick pyjamas, and hot water bottles, even with the heating cranked up. They hated the cold as much as Mike did, but Oscar was a lot skinnier than Mike and seemed to freeze over the littlest thing. And his hands were always cold.

“I can’t help it,” he mumbled, “I like getting new ones. They’re so soft when you just buy them, you know, before they go in the wash.”

Mike shrugged. “I- guess? You’re very cute.”

“Thanks, um, I’m gonna…” Oscar covered his face to hide his blush, and ducked off. Mike watched him go with a soft smile, then turned back to the fish. He fussed over all of them, trying to give every tank the same amount of attention, and the axolotl too. He wanted a pet so badly, even a tiny fish that didn't do anything, but now the Jones brothers weren’t getting money from their mother, they had to cut back on expenses. Get “real” jobs, in the twins’ cases. Alfred was handing out rather empty CVs, and Matthew had gone back to selling weed, not a real job but it made more money than one. It was keeping them afloat, along with support from their dad. He was a little skeptical of having two LGBTQ children, but accepted Mike all the same. It was more than a weight off for him.

He missed his dad at times. The man was gruff and cantankerous, and not quite in touch with his emotions, but he loved them, and could be fun to hang out with. Mike wasn’t one for fishing in silence most of the time, but it wasn’t so bad to get away from it all, just sitting by a lake, admiring the view and recharging.

When he found Oscar again, the trolley was half full.

“I got a little carried away,” Oscar admitted, fiddling with his hair. “Thought it’d be nice to redecorate.”

He’d bought a pair of fluffy cushions and a duvet set to go with his blanket, all a soft lilac.

“So much for not getting stuff,” he commented.

“I like stuff,” said Oscar, blushing.

“I noticed. Luckily, you might get some more stuff for your birthday.” If they were still together in three months. Mike hoped they were.

“Aww, you don’t need to,” said Oscar in a way that told Mike he would very much like to be spoilt for his birthday, and every other day too.

“I’m gonna,” Mike decided to get a set of string lights for his room, since they were on sale. Oscar decided to join him. Mike added some lanterns and a star ornament to the trolley, then grabbed some snacks. “For later,” he added.

Oscar made a face.

“You don’t have to have any, or get something you want.” Was this something they needed to talk about? Mike wasn’t sure it was his place, but Oscar’s aversion to food was getting concerning. Did he eat at home when Mike wasn’t around? Should he ask his brothers? Was it any of his business? He didn’t want to mention it to Oscar in case he got upset and that was that and they were done.

But he should say something.

But he didn’t want Oscar to dump him.

But the guy just didn’t eat.

Mike didn’t bring it up, like the coward he was, and just went to the checkout in silence. He’d talk to Oscar eventually, someday, or he wouldn’t forgive himself.

“I hope you didn’t have any other plans for the date,” said Oscar, a little more chipper once they were outside, despite the snow beginning to cling to his hair. “I mean, I’m kinda excited about sorting out my room.” He looked away. “If it sounds boring, we don’t have to, though.”

“Nah, it’s cool,” Mike nudged him, “I’m cold. And I like it when you’re excited.” Also, Oscar had mentioned his brothers weren’t home. He wondered what would happen, and tried not to let the bubble in his stomach distract him. Nothing was going to happen, most likely, so he should just calm down.

Stupid hormones.

...

“There, beautiful.” Oscar smoothed out his blanket, then continued to run his hands over the soft, fluffy material. His bed was neat and made up with the new things, the string lights wrapped around the bars of his headboard. His succulent was on his desk, named Mikey, whilst Human Mike watched him with a soft smile.

“You are,” he mumbled with a blush, then stood up to hug Oscar from behind. He sighed, kissing the back of his neck as Oscar's hair tickled his nose. Oscar reached a hand back around to squeeze him, and pressed himself against Mike. He wasn’t the warmest person, but Mike was happy to provide all the heat here, holding him tight.

Everything was perfect. He hoped he didn’t say anything to ruin it.

“I love you.”

Fuck.

Oscar paused. “You do?”

“Yeah, um, it might be a bit early, sorry,” he could feel sweat creep into his eyes. “I’m sorry. I just- I don’t know what I’m sorry. I mean, saying, sorry.”

Oscar turned around and kissed his sweaty forehead. “I love you too.” He kissed his nose. “And, yeah, maybe we’re being dumb teens who go on about being in love after two months, but it’s how I feel.”

Mike grinned, despite himself. Who knew what would happen in the future? Maybe, by next Christmas, they wouldn’t even be talking, but it didn’t matter. He was going to live his life, and so was Oscar, and they were going to make as many mistakes as they could. They were fifteen! They had miles and miles of life ahead of them, and they needed to make the best of it.

His mother was just one of many challenges he knew he’d be facing over his life, so he had to grab any happiness he could. Any memories to get him through the bad times. And Oscar was good for those kinds of memories.

“Wanna get under the covers and cuddle?” He kissed Oscar cheek.

“But I just made the bed,” he whined.

“I’ll make it again when we’re done.”

Oscar looked at him. “Done with what, exactly?”

“Kissing, nothing more,” he put his hands up, then slowly lowered them again. “Unless, you-”

“I don’t!” Oscar’s face softened. “I’m sorry, it’s a bit soon. I’m not ready.”

“That’s fine, baby,” Mike kissed his nose, “baby dear man.” Oscar huffed a laugh. “We’ll do things when we’re both ready and comfy.”

Oscar pulled Mike into the single bed, the two of them clinging together to save Mike from falling out. Mike pulled the new blanket around them both and kissed him. Then kissed him again, because Oscar’s lips were soft. Oscar smiled and kissed his nose.

“Say you love me again,” he mumbled, “I liked it.”

Mike grinned. “I love you.”

#huttmol #aph hutt river #aph molossia #hetalia #aph micronations #Hetalia Fanfiction #Hetalia fic #just kids

3 notes · View notes

romaniassexdungeon · 5 years

Text

Mets and Cooper’s Alternative Detective Agency - chapter 3

Pairing: OzEst

Warning: drugs

Now that Pretend's almost done, we'll probably be doing more work on this. Hopefully.

Written by myself and @larsmoorenhateblog

Logan - Australia // Gunner - Denmark // Hunapo - New Zealand // Ndedi - Cameroon // Angie - Seychelles

Read on AO3

“What was that about?”

Eduard looked up from his washing up. He wasn’t angry, just curious. But he could get angry. “Hm?”

“Getting all involved and stuff.” He cleared his throat and switched to a painfully inaccurate approximation of his accent. “Sooo… this Gunner guy…”

He shook his head, scrubbing at a pan. “You don’t sound Estonian.”

“Not even a little bit?”

“Way too expressive.”

Logan snorted. He took a plate off the drying rack and started wiping it with a tea towel. “You interested?”

“In the case?”

“Yeah.” He leaned on the counter as he dried it off. “I’m going looking for him tonight. I was just wondering if, uh, if maybe…”

“Maybe?”

“If maybe you wanted to tag along? I mean, if you’re interested. And you must be going stir crazy staying here all day. Might do you good to get some fresh air.”

“Aw, let me live. I’ve had enough fresh air in the last couple months. Plus you have air conditioning in here. I’m not built for the Australian heat. I definitely have skin cancer.”

“It’ll be in the evening anyway. Little cooler.”

“Sure. I’ll come.”

“Good. Jem can watch Harry. She loves that kid, even if she isn’t the best influence.”

Logan usually got Jem to watch Harry, or a babysitter picked her up from school. He didn’t trust Eduard with her yet, not even slightly, but Eduard wasn’t so fussed. He’d never been good with children, even as a child. Or adults, really.

“So, Hunapo, is he-“

“They.”

“Right. What?”

“They’re non-binary.”

“Right. I’m not- I know… the vague idea. Some gay kids in shelters and stuff. I don’t even talk to them, I just overhear stuff. But I’m trying to be better with this sort of thing, I’m just… what’s the word?“

“Sheltered?”

“Yeah.”

Logan picked up a glass and dried it off. “Yeah, they’re not a boy or a girl. They’re just doing their thing.”

“Right.” Eduard made a mental note to find a less annoying way to look into it. “And you lost your job for them?”

“And I don’t regret it. My mate Ndedi, he helped out, but he got Ange to keep him anonymous. I kinda wanted my name on it, to make a big statement, but… well, it didn’t work out. Still. Good to get out of it.”

“How so?”

“It’s all true, what Jem says, all cops are bastards. Except Ndedi. He’s trying to fix things from the inside. And even he’s still a cop. But the way they treat him, and the way they treated me, what with him being black and me being aboriginal, it’s… y’know, I don’t mind so much not working there anymore.”

Eduard thought about it. “Is it more dangerous, not being able to play the cop card?”

Logan shrugged. “I guess. I mean, people are gonna be bitches anyway. And if the cop in question didn’t know me already, they’re not gonna believe me if I’m off duty and tell them I’m on the force too. It’s just that I’m slightly more likely to be arrested now.”

“Hey, at least the supermarket guy believed you.”

“Yeah,” Logan smiled. “Bit of food’s done you good. Got some colour back. As in, blood colour, not sunburn colour.”

“Hopefully not too much, or the police might start beating me up.”

Logan snorted. “Yeah, you’re a long way off, unless they don’t like your accent. Or just be openly LGBT.”

Eduard tried not to look too uncomfortable.

“Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I, uh, I’m straight, I think.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Then I guess you’re safe.”

“I mean, the “homeless” of it all doesn’t help.”

“Well, you can get back on your feet now, yeah?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Sorry about… I mean, I’ve been looking at jobs. Applying for stuff.”

“Anything?”

“Nothing yet. Something about needing to have finished school and have qualifications.”

Logan nodded. “Maybe you… need to finish school. You could do it online or go to some adult class.”

“I’ve looked into it. Maybe I will.” But that was more time he’d be spending at Logan’s. Unable to work and contribute and just leave them in peace. But even if he had a job, would Logan expect him to hand over all the money? Eduard hated this. He’d always been good at making people money, but the one time he wanted to help out of his own accord, and there was nothing legal.

“I mean, you’re smart. You just don’t have the qualifications.”

“I’m not that smart.”

“Do you really have nothing? You’re 26, right, you must have been doing something all this time.” He often tried to ask where Eduard came from, not always in such a beat-around-the-bush way, but Eduard wasn’t sure he was ready to talk about it. Would he ever? If he got everything together - or not - and left, he wouldn’t have to. The idea of becoming a permanent fixture in Logan’s life was completely foreign, even if they’d settled into a routine.

“Nah.” He shifted. Logan decided not to pry.

“Right. Well, there has to be something. Let’s not give up just yet.”

“Maybe we should,” Eduard sighed, “look, I appreciate everything you’ve done, but I’m not worth it. I can’t get a job, I’m just a drain.”

“I don’t believe that,” said Logan, “I’m sure you’ll get back on your feet, and until then you’re welcome here.”

“But-”

“Look, how about you come with me, do a bit of investigating? We’ll find Jem’s bike, and then see how you feel.”

Eduard thought about it, then nodded. “Okay.”

...

Gunner, it turned out, wasn’t so difficult to find. Mostly because he cycled right into them.

Logan had just stepped into Johnson Estate, Eduard trailing behind, when Gunner’s bike crashed right into his side.

“I’m so sorry!” cried Gunner, “I didn’t see you! Like, I saw you but my brain didn’t click and... yeah-” He scrambled to get himself and his bike back up. “Sorry!”

Logan brushed himself off. “It’s fine.”

Eduard caught up. “Logan? Are you okay?”

Logan nodded, giving Eduard a meaningful glance. “Just got crashed into by this guy, that’s all.”

Eduard gave the man a once-over. He fit Hunapo’s description well.

“I’m really sor-”

“It’s okay, man. How bout you buy us a coffee and we’ll say no more.”

“I’d love to, man, but I gotta make a delivery.”

“Delivery?”

“Yeah,” his eyes shifted, “real urgent.”

Logan glanced at Ed, “what kind of delivery?”

“I… sell Avon.”

“You know, we’re not cops.”

“Oh thank fuck, I actually sell coke. Literally would rather admit to that than selling Avon.”

Logan nodded. “I get that.”

“Anyway, we just want to talk.” Would Gunner punch Eduard? He looked like he could.

“Yeah, that bike you just crashed into me with, that’s my little sister’s bike.” Before Gunner could respond, Logan had him in a headlock. Gunner yelped, pulling out a pocket knife. Eduard grabbed his arm and wrestled it out of his hand before he could put it in Logan.

“Stop it! Get off!”

Eduard put the knife in his pocket and took the bike a few steps back. “We’ll be taking this.”

“No!”

The desperation in his voice almost convinced Logan to loosen his grip.

“Please, man, I need this. The- the boss isn’t gonna let me do this one late.”

“We’re not going without the bike,” Eduard warned him.

Logan, to Eduard’s surprise, ignored him. “What do you mean, the boss?”

“I’ve fucked up enough, man, I already owe him big time.” Gunner looked like he’d faint, “he said he’d kill me.”

“Why?”

“And- and if I ran away, he’d kill my family.”

“Your family?”

“I’ve got kids, man, I- be cool.”

“Yeah, that’s what I call my sperms too,” said Logan. Eduard wondered if he should point out to Logan that he had an actual kid.

“Nah, mate, human kids. They go to school and everything!” Gunner was panicking now, “my boss says he’ll get them as they come out of school! I just need to make this delivery on time, I swear.”

Logan groaned. “Fine, fine. But you better give us your bike after. And we want to talk. Look, you’re not in trouble. We just… we want in.”

Gunner raised an eyebrow. “Nice try, undercover pig.”

“It’s not like- We really need the money.”

Eduard put his hand on Logan’s shoulder, silently telling him to let him do the talking. “My friend here’s a little new to this, excuse his manners.”

Logan couldn’t help but smile at the word “friend”, though Eduard’s sudden charisma caught him off guard. All of a sudden he could have been one of the guys he used to chase after, rough around the edges like the Eduard he still barely knew, but confident too. Like it was second nature to him.

“We have some things to discuss with your boss. Important things. Bigger things than whatever it is the guy’s delivery boy did to piss him off.”

“Bigger?”

“Might be enough to get him in a better mood. Let a few bygones be bygones.”

Logan looked at him. There was a lot about Eduard he still didn’t know; was letting him in the same house as Harry a good idea after all?

Gunner bit at his lip. “Bygones, huh?”

“Clean slate,” Eduard promised, “And all you need to do is hand that bike over.”

“Why are you so fussed about the bike?”

“It belongs to this man’s sister,” said Eduard, “you stole it off her.”

“Thought you were doing dealings with him. Why are you fussed about-”

“Wind your neck in, Mr Densen.”

Gunner nodded. He looked like he was struggling under the weight of Eduard’s authoritative voice. Logan was right there with him. The fact that Eduard knew his name didn’t seem to be lost on him. “Look, please, you’ll sort things out, right?”

“Everything will be fine,” Eduard promised, “why don’t you run along home?”

Gunner hesitated, then ran.

Logan raised his eyebrows at Eduard once he was out of earshot. “How did you just...”

“Same thing you did with the supermarket guy,” he shrugged, “People want to know someone else will handle it.”

“We don’t have anything to offer a drug dealer.”

Eduard walked along. “He doesn’t know that.”

“So you just… lied to him?”

“Well, he isn’t gonna see us again.”

“What about his kids?”

Eduard thought it over. “Not our problem.”

“Not our problem? What if he kills them?”

“Try not to think about it too much.”

“Well I’m thinking about it.” Logan stopped, checking the basket. Gunner had left a duffel bag in it, filled with smaller bags of cocaine, and an address written on the back of a receipt. He couldn’t say Gunner was the best man for the job.

“It’s a warehouse, in the industrial estate outta town,” he noted. “Where things are stored, or made?”

Eduard looked at him. “So?”

Logan rolled his eyes. “So, whoever Gunner works for could be there.”

“So we return the coke like good citizens?”

“No. We go stop this dealer. I dunno how. I have a mate on the force that is actually chill; maybe we can grab a load of evidence and get him in prison.”

“Why? What’s it to us?”

“Dude, he’s fucking over at least one family. This isn’t a bit of weed,” he held open the bag for him, “this is a fuckload of seriously deadly shit.”

“Well if you wanted to do something about it, you should’ve stayed a cop.” Eduard walked away. “It’s not our problem.”

“Well I’m making it my problem.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to help! This guy needs a break, right?” Logan rested Jem’s bike against a wall, and began pacing the alley outside the estate. “He’s trapped by this dealer prick. This guy is completely under his control, and going to die if we don’t do something.”

“He might not,” mumbled Eduard, fidgeting nervously. “Look, can’t we just go home and forget about it?”

“I wouldn’t be able to. It’ll be in the back of my mind for the rest of my life if I didn’t do something.” Logan hesitated for just a moment, then handed him the house keys. “I’m gonna do something. Meet you at home later.”

He got on the bike and set off. Eduard groaned. There was no use talking him out of it, and he didn’t want Logan going off on his own.

“Wait! I’m coming with you!”

#ozest #aph estonia #APH Australia #aph denmark #hetalia #Hetalia Fanfiction #hetalia fic #mets and cooper's alternative detective agency #drugs cw

7 notes · View notes

romaniassexdungeon · 5 years

Text

Pretend - chapter 8

Pairing: OzEst

LAST CHAPTER BABEY! There's an epilogue too but other than that! Shit! It's DONE! I'm gonna miss writing this thing. TW: Suicide, violence, drugs (with a lot of discussion of addiction), animal death mention

Written by myself and @larsmoorenhateblog

Names: João - Portugal Josefina - Pontinha (OC)

Read on AO3 (it’s over 1500 words so I won’t put the whole thing on here. But read it please!!)

#ozest #APH Estonia #APH Australia #Hetalia fic #hetalia #hetalia australia #hetalia estonia #aph portugal #APH Belarus #aph ukraine #aph finland #pretend

7 notes · View notes

romaniassexdungeon · 5 years

Text

The Siren Softly Sings

Pairing: AmeLiet

Warnings: Death, cannibalism, lime,

Summary: On a family holiday, Alfred's boring trek around an art gallery changes when he comes across a painting of human misery, and a man dedicated to studying it.

Notes: This is another fic inspired by a Pogues song, this particular one based on "Wake of the Medusa" and is the first of three Baltic fics that tie in together. They'll be written... eventually. One's already started and the other's in planning stage. In the meantime, I'll probably work on other fics from my Pogues series. This fic was inspired by a song inspired by a painting based off a real sinking. The sinking in this fic is fictional, though. This one is... well, I can't go spoiling anything, but it's spoopy, enjoy!

G.A. Densen - Denmark Tomas - Lithuania Jānis - Latvia

Read on AO3

...

The guests are stood in silence, they stare and drink their wine,

On the wall the canvas hangs, frozen there in time,

They marvel at the beauty, the horror and despair,

At the wake of the Medusa, no one shed a tear,

Sit my friends and listen, put your glasses down,

Sit my friends and listen to the voices of the drowned.

...

Alfred didn’t know a lot about art, but he could honestly say that was a big painting.

He could go into further detail, say that the painting itself had further detail, that there were a lot of men crammed on that raft, and they all looked rather fragile compared to the massive storm brewing in the background, but as it were, he just took another sip of coffee and tried to look deep in thought, and not completely, utterly bored.

He glanced around as people slowly filtered in and out, none of whom were his brother. He had no idea where Matthew had wandered off to, but he wasn’t happy about being left in a creepy old gallery with a bunch of old people who looked like they’d keel over and die. They filtered in and out, but he was left alone for the most part. There was something eerie about the painting itself; maybe the twisted, pained expressions of everyone in it? How realistic they were? How they all seemed to be calling to him. As he waited for his brother to come collect him, Alfred, shuffled off to the side to let others see the painting, deciding to read the little plaque next to it.

Wreck of the Medusa - G.A. Densen

Painted in 1800, this romantic piece depicts the sinking of the Medusa, a Danish merchant vessel run aground in the north Atlantic. After the officers and passengers were shepherded onto lifeboats, the main body of the crew was left to fend for themselves. Though some managed to cling to a makeshift raft, only one man was ever found alive.

Densen effectively and realistically conveys extreme emotion in his work, capturing the anguish of those doomed, and, for an unknown reason, painting himself into the picture (centre-right).

Alfred glanced over at the man in question, staring out at him with pleading eyes. He shuddered.

This was Densen’s final painting, finished shortly before his disappearance. No one knows what happened to him, and his body was never found.

Well, that was spooky.

“Haunting, is it not?”

Alfred jumped at the voice, and wheeled round to find the room empty, save for one assistant, standing in the corner.

“Err, yeah.” He gave a friendly smile, despite the fact that he was shaking and had gotten an actual adrenaline rush from being crept up on. “You know about it? The - err - the painting?”

The assistant nodded. “Of course. I work here.” He took a couple of steps closer, looking down at his hands and giving a melancholy sigh. He seemed nervous, like he didn’t often get the opportunity to talk to people, and that lack of practice made him scared to try. Still, his confidence was growing. Nothing was going to stop him talking about this giant-ass painting. “I have studied the Wreck of the Medusa for years now,” he appeared to be trying his best not to look too excited, but the way his voice cracked and his eyes lit up told another story, “I could tell you everything there is to know about it.”

Alfred had to admire the man’s passion. The only thing he’d been as dedicated to learn was the pokerap. He wasn’t sure he wanted to learn about the painting, though; everything about it gave him the heebies, and then the jeebies. But he did love seeing people talk about that they were passionate about. And the guy was cute, too. He was dressed like a librarian in a baggy brown jumper and worn tie. His hair also had a grey tinge to it, as did his skin, but he was handsome. He just needed to get out more. Catch the sun. Maybe Alfred could take him out.

“You know what? I’d love to hear it.”

The man smiled; it made his face less grey.

“Well, for starters, you read it was a Romanticism piece, right?”

“Yeah… what the hell is Romanticism? Doesn’t look very romantic. Not really into drowning dudes. But I am very much into dudes,” he added, hoping the guy would get the point. He didn't know how to say it clearer.

The guy smiled.

“I hear that a lot. Um, the not knowing about Romantic art. Oh, I did not catch your name!”

“Alfred F. Jones. I mean, I legally changed my middle name to Fortnite last year. And before that, the F stood for Franklin, though my brother says it was to pay respects when I was born. But anyway, what about you?”

The guy blinked, probably understanding about 10% of Alfred’s ramble. “I am Tomas Septys. Lovely to meet you.”

“You too, man. So, Romanticism?”

Tomas sat down on the bench in the middle of the room. Alfred joined him, leaving space between them.

“Yes, it is an art movement.” He paused, excited to continue, but scared to bore him with a ramble.

“What kind?” Alfred prompted. He knew nothing about art movements. Tomas made him want to learn more.

“It places emphasis on emotion,” said Tomas, playing with his hands, “particularly, the emotion of the artist. The idea behind that is using your imagination for your work, not really worrying about the rules. And being original.”

Alfred nodded slowly.

“Of course, Densen was using his imagination for this, having not been present when the ship sank.” He stood up, walking over to the painting. “His… his love was on the Medusa. There.” He pointed at the man next to Densen, clinging to his shirt. Alfred thought it looked pretty freaking gay, but had the sneaking suspicion many people had insisted it was platonic throughout the years. “Not many people know that, though historians have debated.”

“So you think they were in love?”

“I know they were.”

Alfred raised an eyebrow. “You know?”

“Densen’s private diaries were recovered recently. Someone had hidden them.” Tomas didn’t take his eyes off the painting. “Eduard Mets never came home. Densen waited months for the news. He hoped, prayed someone had picked him up. Maybe he’d washed ashore, or gotten lost.”

“That… I couldn’t even imagine going through that.” Alfred studied the painting. Densen was wailing, like his soul was silently being torn in half. He could almost hear the screams.

"I think he had to accept it, after a while. That Eduard was not coming back. I have a feeling that, after finishing this painting, he… he walked into the ocean." He tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. "I mean, that is the legend, but there is always truth at the heart of a legend."

Alfred nodded, then he froze. "Wait, is this a ghost story?"

Tomas smiled. "Does that scare you?"

"Fucking yeah?"

"You can leave if you want. Walk out of the door."

Alfred thought about it. The room was darker than usual. Everyone was gone. No one had come in in a while now. He shivered.

"No, I'll stay."

"Good answer, but I am all out of time. My lunch break is over now. Can you come back tomorrow?"

Alfred looked at him. He was supposed to go look at some old buildings with Matthew. Maybe a museum or something. What the fuck was an "Old Town"?

He could blow it off.

"Yeah, sure. Same time tomorrow." He gave a smile, and left the room.

...

In the moonlight's ghostly glow, I waken in a dream,

Once more upon that raft I stand, upon a raging sea,

In my ears the moans and screams of the dying ring,

Somewhere in the darkness, the siren softly sings,

Out there in the waves she stands and smiling there she calls,

As the lightning cracks the sky, the wind begins to howl.

...

True to his promise, Alfred was back in front of the painting, and Tomas was waiting for him on the other side of the room.

“Hey, how you been?”

Tomas smiled at him. “Looking forward to seeing you. I did not know if you would be true to your word, I must confess.”

“Hey, man, I said I’d be here. You’re cute and I only got a few days left to see you.” He blushed at that. How would Tomas take it? People assumed he was good at flirting, because he looked like a Chad, but Alfred had no idea what he was doing. He often didn’t.

Tomas looked at his shoes, smiling to himself. “We must make the most of our waning time.”

Alfred glanced at the painting, then back to Tomas. “I guess you wanna talk about it some more?”

Tomas nodded. “You will not, truly, understand the painting, until we talk about the individualism.”

“The what?”

“You need to know the story of the men here. The individual men.”

“You know the names of all the men in the painting?” That was dedication.

“Some. We could not find out about every man. But Eduard and his two friends, Toris Laurinaitis and Jānis Garais,” he pointed them out, "we know about them."

“Toris has your hair,” Alfred noted.

“I get that a lot.”

“Tell me about him.”

“He was a thoughtful man, a Lithuanian sailor who travelled the world, and ended up in Copenhagen at the wrong time. Got work on the Medusa with his friends, trading on the Gold Coast and hoping to come back with… gold, funny enough.”

Alfred nodded.

“No voyage was easy back in those days, but the risk brought reward, and I imagine the three were looking forward to getting a decent pay. Or… maybe not. Maybe promotion, something more stable. I do not know.”

“But the ship sank?”

Tomas nodded. “A few weeks in, a storm hit the North Atlantic and the ship ran aground.”

“The one in the painting?”

“Yes, the one in the painting.” Tomas looked at the painting. It dominated the room, seemingly growing as Alfred stared. He swore it was moving: clouds fuzzing around the edges, sea rolling ever so slowly. But every time he tried to remember where a wave had been before, he couldn’t. The painting had always been like that.

“The few passengers the ship had were loaded onto boats. And the senior crew. The rich, important people on the ship. There were few lifeboats. Little row boats that would barely survive the storm, but it was better than a doomed ship. The crew, the disposable members… no one particularly cared what happened to them.”

“That’s… wow.” He couldn’t bring himself to be surprised, but it still made his stomach sink. “Were they… did they…”

“The three friends, well, they had always stuck together, and they would, no matter what.” Tomas rubbed his shoulder. “What happened next… it shook Europe to its core.”

“What happened?”

“That, my friend, is a story for tomorrow.”

“Are you for real?” Alfred groaned, “did you just IRL clickbait a Goddamn painting?”

“I have no idea what you just said, but please ?” asked Tomas, “for me?” He smiled sheepishly; Alfred’s protest caught in his throat. “I have to get back to work, but…” He looked at the painting, “their story needs to be told.” His voice cracked.

“I’ll come back. I promise.” Alfred reached over and squeezed his hand.

“You are so warm,” Tomas commented. “You know, you can meet me after the museum closes. Stay behind… there is a cupboard you can hide in. People sneak in there all the time.” He blushed at that. Deeply.

“Oh I’ll be there.” Alfred was blushing too. “You’ll find me in there. In the cupboard. In the dark.”

...

The architects of our doom, around their tables sit,

And in their thrones of power, condemn those they've cast adrift,

Echoes down the city street, their harpies laughter rings,

Waiting for the curtain call, oblivious in the wings.

...

The gallery was silent. Even the security guards had forgotten to come to work, had forgotten to set alarms. They usually did when something was about to happen.

Despite the shattering silence, Tomas made no sound as he walked past his painting. The sun was setting through the dusty windows, gold sinking, to be replaced by grey. He wondered if Alfred had been true to his word; he’d not seen him about the gallery.

He walked on, slowly and deliberately towards their meeting place.

Tomas actually giggled as Alfred dragged him into the cupboard, kissing all over his neck. “Yo, how many spiders do you think are in here?” he laughed, hands on Tomas’s arms.

“Just ignore them.” He smiled at him, even if Alfred couldn't see it. "It will be okay. Just focus on me. Nothing but me."

"I can do that." Alfred kissed where the thought Tomas's nose would be. He landed on a cheek.

Tomas returned the kiss, tasting the sugar on his lips. "Just for tonight, let me be your world."

...

The casket is empty, abandon ye all hope,

They ran off with the money, and left us with the rope.

...

Tomas breathed against Alfred’s chest, clinging to the warmth and rush of blood and Alfred’s ragged breathing. It had been lonely, wandering about the gallery; he missed the touch of another person.

“I’m really gonna miss you,” Alfred whispered in his ear, shirt crumpled on the floor, trousers bunched at his knees. Tomas nodded. He let Alfred play with his hair, feeling the man tuck it behind his ears and kiss his forehead. He almost wept at the tenderness.

“Do you have to go?” he whispered back.

“Yeah. My plane’s tomorrow.” He pulled away to plaster his clothes back on him. Tomas sighed and pulled up his trousers; he hadn’t done anything like that in a while.

In a rare moment of spontaneity, Tomas stepped forward and kissed him. He wrapped his arms around Alfred’s waist, squeezing him. He couldn’t let him go.

Alfred stopped buttoning his shirt to hug him back. “I know, babe. Look, how about we go in the gallery, you tell me about the painting, and we come back here and hide away til the morning?”

Tomas smiled. “I’d like that. Come on,” he straightened his jumper, “time to finish my story.”

He took Alfred’s hand and guided him through the darkness, through long corridors with ceilings lost in the gloom, to the room he knew so well. In the feeble moonlight, the painting looked alive. Alfred shivered.

For a long moment, Tomas said nothing. He stared up at the painting, willing himself to go on.

“So, you gonna tell me what happened?” Alfred looked at him, “to these three friends?”

Tomas nodded.

“You gonna tell me why you made me stay behind? This place is creeping me out, man.”

Tomas took his hand. “Are you scared?”

“What? Nah! Of course not! I- yeah, this is pretty scary. I’m not scared, just… uneasy.”

“I see. Fascinating.”

“Tomas, please-”

“So impatient. The three floated on their raft for a week, hoping and praying that someone would find them. They survived on rainwater, taunted by the ocean surrounding them. So refreshing to hear, but would kill them if they drank.” Tomas gave him a sorrowful smile. “No ships came. There was nothing to eat. Not for the first week, at least.”

“Oh, did they get some fish? A seagull?” suggested Alfred. Tomas almost laughed at his optimism.

“Jānis was smaller than the other two. Weaker. He was the first to succumb to his hunger, and on the seventh day, his friends woke up to find his corpse.”

Alfred winced, finding Jānis among the other faces in the painting. He looked so young, barely a man, with a round face and golden curls.

“That must’ve been horrible,” he agreed.

“Then, his friends succumbed to their hunger, in a different way.” Tomas shrugged. “Jānis’s emaciated body hardly counted as fresh meat, but it was a source of food.”

Alfred wrinkled his nose in disgust. “You mean they ate their friend ?”

“They did not mean to!”

“How do you not mean to eat someone?”

“There was no other way!”

“Woah, why you getting so emotional about it? I’m not saying I blame them, just that it’s a bit gross.”

“Please,” Tomas looked at him, face lined with fear, “we were starving! There was nothing that could be done for Jānis, but maybe, Eduard and I-”

Alfred looked at him. “Woah, woah, wait, do you think you’re the guy in the painting?”

Tomas grimaced, glancing at the exit. “Can you keep a secret?" Alfred nodded. "I am the guy in the painting. I am Toris.”

“Oh come on, man, you need to get outta the gallery more.”

“I cannot leave this place,” said Tomas, quietly.

“Whatever!” Alfred turned to walk out. He was done with this, with Tomas and his secrets and hiding things, and now he was trying to tell him-

The doors slammed in his face.

Tomas stood behind him, hands out, his mouth strained.

“You may leave,” he whispered, “once I have finished my story.”

Alfred shrank away. He rattled the doorknob, but it was stuck fast. “Let me go!”

“Alfred,” Tomas held his hands up, “I promise, I will set you free the moment I have finished my story.”

Alfred growled and kicked the door, quickly giving up. “Fine! Tell me what happened to you, Ghost Boy!”

“A ghost? Huh…” Tomas scratched at his shoulder, “a restless spirit… yes, I suppose I am.”

Alfred, though nothing terrified him more than the supernatural, took a step forward. Then another, and another. He thought about slamming him against the wall, but didn't want to see what this restless spirit could do.

And, on a slightly related note, what exactly had he just nut in? Was his jizz actually on the cupboard wall? He could ask about that later, maybe.

“What. Happened,” he growled, speaking slowly, “Tomas, Toris, whoever you are, tell me what happened.”

“We were found, a few weeks later,” Tomas took a step back, climbing over the rope barrier and pressing himself against the painting. His own face silently wailed next to him. “Well, I was. As for Eduard…”

“ Yes ?”

“Bones. Picked clean. And blood caked on my chin. It was obvious to see what happened.” Tomas stared at his friend in the painting.

“They said I was a monster,” he whimpered, “I was hanged for my crimes, tortured for no other reason than disgust. The people who left me on that raft got away with it, but I was killed for trying to survive.” He looked at Alfred. “I am no monster.”

“I mean, dude, I’d count ghosts as monsters,” Alfred shrugged, “and eating people is messed up…”

“You have my word, I slaughtered no one. All I did was outlive them. Do you trust me?”

“What the hell kinda question is that? I mean, you’re a cannibal who’s had my dick in your mouth, so you can’t be all bad, but… man, this is too freaky. I gotta go. Think about stuff.”

He turned to leave. Tomas didn’t move.

“Hey, come on, open the doors!”

Tomas gave a whimper. “Please… please stay. I cannot be alone.”

Alfred paused. This was stupid; either Tomas - Toris - was playing some messed-up joke on him, or he was talking to an actual, real ghost. Either way, every instinct told him not to stick around.

“Fine,” he sighed, “I’ll stay.” Why was he so stupid?

“You will not leave?”

“I- I won’t.”

Toris stepped forward and took his arm. In the shadows, he seemed to shift, shrugging off his stuffy librarian’s outfit. His shirt shimmered in the faint gasps of moonlight, pure white and seemingly floating. His face hollowed, eyes wild, a trapped animal. When Alfred looked at his hand, it was bones held together with skin. Though Toris looked like a zombie, the sight was too pitiful to send him running.

“You will stay with me?”

Alfred gulped. He nodded.

“You, my love, are a fool.”

...

Matthew had been looking for his brother, the next morning when he didn’t return home. He knew Alfred had been obsessed with the gallery, taking an interest in another country’s culture for the first time ever. He’d forgone the beach, the club, even the theme park to come back here. It would’ve been a nice surprise, had it not taken over his entire life.

Alfred couldn’t be convinced, and now he was gone. Matthew walked as fast as he could, through the many little rooms with humanity’s history in paintings, past tourists and old people, past security guards who paid him no mind, past-

Matthew stopped. There was no need to rush.

He looked at the nearest painting, one of a girl and her dog. She was sat on her swing, in the back garden of a cottage. Her dog seemed to be chasing her as she swung, a playful movement to his tail. He liked the lighting in it, but didn’t know much about paintings to comment further.

He moved on.

The place was nice, and he’d happily spend a day here, but he needed to catch his flight later that afternoon. The sun warmed his face as he passed windows twice his height, but the next room he entered - off to the side - was cool and dark.

There was one painting.

It took up most of the wall, a scene of misery stretched out before him. The twisted pain in the faces of the sailors clinging to a raft, spilling into the sea and splashing wildly, reaching out to grab at their comrades.

In the background, a storm raged, destroying what was left of the ship, thrown about like the broken carcass of an insect.

In the foreground, among other terrified sailors, was a man who jolted something in Matthew’s mind. There was something familiar about him. They looked super similar, and Matthew smiled. It was nice to find your doppelganger in a painting.

There was a sense of loss too, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

A voice spoke up behind him, so sudden it made him jump.

“Haunting, is it not?”

#ameliet #APH America #aph lithunia #hetalia #APH Canada #alfred f jones #toris laurinaitis #matthew williams #aph latvia #aph estonia #aph denmark #peace and love #pogueverse #APH Baltics #aph na bros #HETALIA FANFIC #Hetalia fic

24 notes · View notes

romaniassexdungeon · 5 years

Text

Our Souls Briefly Touched in Tallinn

Pairing: OzEst

Rating: Lemon

Summary: It was by chance they met, on a warm summer's night in Old Tallinn, a fleeting moment they shared together, never to be recreated. But, in the end, it was exactly what they both needed. The heartbreak, the yearning, the anticipation, it was all worth it, just to be together.

Notes: Written with @tikola-nesla. Tbh we’ve just been sitting here laughing at our own stupid jokes. Yeah pay no attention to the title or summary, this is 8000 words of absolute jack shit wrote by two sleep-deprived idiots. Every line only served to get a laugh out each other. This was supposed to be cute and fluffy, something we'd come up with while walking around Tallinn at like midnight. Yeah, it quickly descended into piss, but please enjoy.

Logan - Australia Fabrice - Cameroon Angie - Seychelles Hunapo - New Zealand

Read on AO3

...

The cobbled streets of Old Tallinn shone under the lights of restaurants and shop windows. A violinist played for tips by a wall, a family laughed over a late meal outside of a restaurant, and three drunk tourists were chasing down their friend.

“Logan, come back!”

Logan started walking backwards, purely to flip the other three off. “Eat my ass, Febreeze!”

One of the three nudged him. “Go on, Fabrice,” she laughed, “Take one for the team.”

Fabrice glared at her. “Don’t encourage him, Angie.”

“What’s so wrong with my arse?” Logan cried, “Got some juicy melons on me!”

“Oh my god, Lo-”

“Logan, I swear-”

“He’s gonna do it, isn’t-”

Logan pulled his shorts down to his ankles and continued to run ahead, then immediately toppled over onto the cobbles.

“Fuck! What are these made of?”

“Stone.” Fabrice stood over him, offering him a hand up. “Think you’ve had a little much.”

Logan pulled himself up and blew a raspberry into his face.

“Logan, I can see your whole dick.”

“Aww, Huna!” He blew a kiss at them. “You’re welcome!”

He cackled, kicking his shorts off and dancing wildly to the violinist’s gentle tune.

Huna picked up his shorts and chased after him. “You’re gonna get arrested!”

“If they can’t handle my fat balls, my juicy, juicy, nutsacks, that’s on them!”

Angie ran along with them, taking the lead, and jumped onto his back.

“Hey! Piss off me!”

She held onto him tight. “Put your shorts on, dumbass.”

“What are you doing!?”

She thought about it for a moment. “Fuck knows. Put them on before children see.”

“It’s two in the morning! It’s on their parents for not putting them in bed!”

“You can’t talk parenting with your dick out!”

“Watch me!”

Fabrice sighed. “Logan.”

Logan grumbled and prized Angie off his back. “I’ll put them on but only because it’s cold.”

She steadied herself on his shoulder. “Good boy.”

“Not because you told me to.”

“Good enough for us.”

“We can’t let him out of our sights,” said Fabrice.

...

“You let him out of your sights?” cried Fabrice, the moment he stepped out of the men’s room and found Logan missing from the group of faces at the bar. He wasn’t trying to win on the quiz machines, or the condom ones, and he wasn’t flirting with anyone, or everyone. He was nowhere to be seen.

Hunapo and Angie shrugged. “It’s just easier,” said Hunapo.

“He’s just so annoying,” she added.

“Yeah, it’s our holiday too.”

“He’ll start taking his clothes off again!”

“But at least this way, he does it far away from us and people don’t assume we’re with him.”

“We are with him!” Fabrice protested.

“Do we want the police knowing that?”

Fabrice shrugged. “They’ll find out when we pay his bail.” He looked out of the tiny window. “Poor Logan, off by himself, wandering around lost and alone. I hope he’s okay.”

“He’ll be balls deep in something by now,” Hunapo nudged him, “he’s fine.”

...

Eduard sat by himself, as usual, in the corner of his local. His top hat lay next to his collection of pint glasses: one full and several empty. He was drinking too fast for the bar staff to collect them all. His traditional outfit, the one he’d been wearing for two days now, was still neat, but his hair was starting to get in a state, wisps sticking up all over where he’d run his long fingers through it. The main sign that he was not alright, though, were the bags under his eyes and grey tone to his scarily pale face.

Second place.

His choir - the best in Europe, probably, almost definitely - had come second to a group of 50 schoolchildren. He’d been beaten by children. No wonder his parents were never proud of him.

He sighed and downed half his beer in one go.

The rest of his choir were celebrating, but he couldn’t. He was going to drown his sorrows, then plan for next year. With a head start, there should be no reason for them to lose again. It wasn’t second place, it was first last place, and not good enough.

This was why his choir never wanted to drink with him.

“Same again?” the waitress asked, and he nodded, finishing the second half of the pint. “Okay, but I’m getting worried.”

“I’m fine,” he mumbled. “I’m- I’m fine.”

“You should be. Second place! We’re all really proud of you.”

He pulled a face. “We should’ve won. It was my job to make sure we won. My dad was right, though. I’m useless.”

“He said that?”

“No, but he implied it. A lot. Never proud of me. My mother neither. Nothing I did was good enough.” Maybe he should’ve told those kids they’d reached their peak, that it would be all downhill from here on out and, eventually, they’d come to the sad conclusion that they weren’t “gifted” but average after all. But apparently that was “being a sore loser”.

She looked very uncomfortable. “Sir, I’m not sure you should have any more alcohol.”

“Aw, Maarja. Don’t cut me off, maybe I’ll feel something soon.”

“Sir, do you need me to call you a cab?”

“I’m fine. I- I’ll be good.” He drank his next pint slower, slouched and miserable. Maarja nodded and went to take the order of a tourist who’d just walked in. Eduard could immediately tell he was Australian, by his loud, annoying voice that started up like a foghorn the moment he locked eyes with someone. Every Estonian in the bar looked very uncomfortable.

Hopefully, he’d be left alone.

The Australian got his own pint and looked around for someone to talk to. Eduard avoided eye contact like he was a teacher asking the class a question, or an Enderman.

No such luck, as usual. He heard the chair opposite him scrape against the knobbly wooden floor.

“Terry!”

Eduard blinked at him.

“You know, Terry! Hello!”

“Tere,” he said, with the passive-aggression he learnt from his mother.

“That! Terry! Anyway, can I-“ He stumbled over his feet trying to sit on the table, tipping it over and sending pint glasses falling in the process. “-can I try on your hat, mate?”

Eduard glanced up at him. “Might as well.”

Logan got it onto his head - with a little difficulty fitting it on - and sat down next to him. “How do I look?”

“Like a man in a hat.”

“But like… a sexy one?”

“Like a hat-wearing one.”

“Shoulda seen me earlier. Had my whole dick out. It was great.”

Eduard honestly, truly, genuinely, had no idea what to say to that. But he knew he hated Australians. Especially if they happened to be tourists.

“What’s with the... “ Logan gestured vaguely at him.

“Air of crushing defeat? It’s the crushing defeat.”

“Nah, the… clothes. Big coat thing.”

“Oh. It’s my choir’s uniform for the music contest.”

He gasped. “You’re one of the singing boys!”

“Mm. We lost.”

“Still performed though, ey? Did your funky funky tunes.”

“We were beaten by children,” he scoffed.

“How old?”

Eduard shrugged. “Small, I guess. I don’t know baby ages. More than 3 but less than 16.”

“Bit of a range there.”

“Yeah, but the point is, our choir sucks.”

“You performed in the… the big thing, though!”

Eduard shrugged. “Still lost.”

“What place did you even get?”

“Second.”

“ Second ? That’s fucking amazing!”

“We were supposed to win.”

“You must be pretty fuckin’ good anyway. Or- or you wouldn’t be in second. Maybe you’re just not cute enough.”

“This is a choir festival, not a cuteness contest.”

“Yeah, or you’d’ve won.” He winked.

“I should have.”

“But you are... “ He paused for a long moment, then patted his face. “You are cute enough to win everything.”

“Can I help you?” he asked, bordering on the border of passive aggression.

“Just wanted to make friends! You look all... Lots of drinks and one guy-y.”

“I am one guy.”

“Well maybe we can be two guys.” Logan winked with both eyes. “And even more drinks.”

“You don’t want to get drinks with me. I’m a has-been. I’ve peaked.”

“You’ve come in higher than second before? Like… gotten all win-y?”

“Does it matter now that I’m nothing?”

“Hey.”

Eduard looked up from his drink. Logan was uncomfortably close to his face.

“I think you’re a lot of things.”

“Like what? Nothing. That’s what.”

“I think you’re cute, and talented. And a little sad.”

“A little?” asked Maarja.

“Yeah, I’m very sad, all the time.” Eduard bit his tongue to stop him oversharing. He hated oversharing, and getting emotional, but it happened sometimes. Usually at the worst moment, like 10am at the Rimi he’d wandered into for potato salad and painkillers to cure his hangover.

“You’re too pretty to be sad,” Logan stroked behind his ear and gently dislodged the arm of his glasses. Eduard wanted to sob from the human touch, and may have leaned into it. “You deserve to be happy.”

“Thanks, I’m cured,” he said flatly, fixing his glasses.

“Can you sing for me, sing-y boy?”

“Why not just listen to a tumble dryer full of cats, it can’t be that different.”

“You came in second!”

“I’ll ne- never sing again, ever.”

“So you’re not performing next year?”

“Well, our choir is, every year, and I’m in our choir, and I’m not missing it, but I’m still never singing again.”

“Ah, I’ll get that song out of you! I bet you sing good.”

“No.”

“You sing good. Like a good singy boy. You make songs.”

“You haven’t heard me.”

“Well, your talky voice is nice as well. Pretty. Such a pretty accent. Like your pretty face.”

“My singing voice is clearly my downfall.”

“Aw, singy man! Don’t be sad! You’re the singy man!”

“I was. I can’t call myself that anymore.”

“Well, I don’t know your actual name, sooo… singy man.”

“Eduard.”

“Logan. What y’doing after this, Eduard?”

“I’ll probably drink more, and then go home, and then drink even more, and then eat some potato salad.”

“Sounds hot. Mind if I tag along?”

“Do you have anywhere else to be?”

His face fell as he remembered. “Aw, shit. My friends. I’m here with them, but they were making me put clothes on and stuff so I kinda… went my own way. Guess you could say I’m a wild card. A real rebel, you know? Can’t be tamed.” He winked again, with both eyes.

“Are you staying together? Just reconvene.”

“Oh, yeah. Reeky… that. We’re staying in a place. Big pink building. Orangey roof.”

“We’re in Old Town. That doesn’t narrow things down.”

“Well, I’ll un-narrow your butthole.”

Eduard sighed. “You’re lost, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. I don’t know where they are.”

He scratched the back of his head casually. “I guess I’ll help you out, if you want.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, might was well. I can’t leave you out here, can I?”

“No, I’ll end up fucking something.”

“Up?”

“Maybe. Either way, nudity happens. That’s the point, yeah?”

“The point of what ?”

“Dunno. All of it?”

“Very philosophical of you.”

“You’re full of sofical.”

“You’re full of alcohol.”

Logan nodded. “Yes. So are you.”

“So I am.” He took his hat back and stood up. “Come on, Australian. Let’s get you home.”

Logan made a weird, probably happy, face. “Wow, you’re in such a rush to get me home.”

“The sooner you’re away from people the better.”

“How can you say that, mate? I’m a gift.”

“Do you have a receipt?”

“You’re cranky when you lose.”

Eduard glowered at him.

“Come on, walk me home, and I’ll cheer you up.” He spanked Eduard’s ass and stumbled out of the pub. Maarja gave Eduard a look as he shuffled out after him.

The summer air was as cool as his father’s heart after Eduard came home with a bad test result that one time. Logan struggled on the cobblestones, looking around at everyone in wonder. There were a few locals about, but it was mostly drunk tourists. People sat outside restaurants and pubs, and groups of friends walked past them.

Logan took Eduard’s hand and set off in a random direction. Eduard immediately began sweating up a storm at the touch. People didn’t touch him, and he didn’t hold hands in public. He squirmed at the stares, but Logan was so big and tough and no one would mess with him. He was warm, too.

Eduard told him all about the Old Town, about the different buildings and the history of Tallinn, and when Logan started to panic over the lack of familiar buildings, Eduard sang to him softly. Logan seemed to appreciate it, even if it didn’t help his overall mood.

The two of them stood in the square as Logan ran his fingers through his hair, exhaling sharply.

“Maybe I’ll remember when I’m sober, but right now, my brain’s completely fried.”

“Have your friends replied yet?”

Logan checked his phone. “No. Nothing. Dickheads.”

Eduard sighed. “Look, you can stay at my place, if you like. I can get you a blanket and you can sleep on the sofa.”

“Sounds cold,” Logan whined, rubbing the back of Eduard’s hand with a thumb.

“Okay, you have the bed and I sleep on the sofa.”

“I mean…” Logan glanced at him, “if there’s only one bed… we could always… share it.”

Eduard’s heart stopped for a moment. He’d never shared a bed with anyone, romantically or platonically. He couldn’t even imagine what that would feel like to lie next to another person. Cuddle them. Maybe even kiss them. Feel warmth and affection for once in his life.

“That’s ridiculous,” he spluttered, “unless you’re serious.” He hoped Logan was.

Logan squeezed his hand. “Very serious.”

Eduard felt things tingle in his spine. “Well, it’s- it’s not far. Just around the corner.” He reached a hand in his pocket to begin fumbling for his keys; he wasn’t letting Logan go. It had been a while since he’d had another person stay over, and he was terrified Logan would change his mind.

Logan only seemed to have one thing on his mind, when they got to Eduard’s front door and he wrapped his arms around his waist from behind, chin resting on Eduard’s shoulder. Something poked at his butt.

This was the closest he’d come to doing a sex in his entire life.

He lead Logan across the hallway and upstairs, shushing him every time he tried to talk in that booming, accented voice he could barely understand. He was convinced that someone would come out to tell them off any second now. He unlocked the door to his flat and pushed Logan inside.

When he opened the door, an overly-pampered Pomeranian started barking at him, annoyed at being left alone for most of the day.

“A baby!”

Logan dashed over to the doggy and started stroking her face, making kissy noises and speaking in gibberish. Siiri looked utterly terrified at the intruder, glancing at Eduard for help. Logan picked her up and let her lick his face, before kissing every inch of hers.

“Oh, you’re baby! A baby baby! Beautiful baby baby! I love you!”

“Siiri.”

“Like the… phone?”

“No. But also yes.”

“I love her so much, I’m going to steal her.”

“Don’t!”

“Okay, okay. But I love her. She’s the best, aren’t you Siiri-wiiri,” he smushed her face and rubbed her belly.

Eduard just shook his head. “So, you’ve been immersing yourself in Estonian culture?” asked Eduard, hanging up his coat neatly.

“You could say that,” Logan replied, kicking off his crocs. “Or, at least, immersing my di-”

“Yes, thank you.”

“In Estonians.”

“Alright! Tried any Estonian food?”

“Pu-”

“No!”

“Di-”

“No!”

“But yeah, been eating weird Estonian food.”

“Estonian food isn’t weird.”

“It is, but I kinda like it. Good potatoes, and meats. Lots of meats.”

Eduard decided to pretend he didn’t pick up on the innuendo. “Have you tried kohuke?”

“Like when a bunch of guys nut on someone’s face?”

“That’s bukkake. I mean no, shush. I don’t know what bukkake is. Kohuke is the best and you need to try it.”

“I will! I’ll make a note of that.” After several attempts to unlock his phone, Logan finally opened up his notes and Eduard saw him type “eat cookei”. He decided to move on.

“And the sauna?”

“Never got to one.”

“Your flat doesn’t have a sauna?”

“Yours does? Doos? Doe? Your doe? Anyway, you have a sauna?”

“Of course. What kind of Estonian would I be without one? Would you like to try it?”

“I don’t have my swimming trunks.”

This man got his dick out in public, but wanted to wear swimming trunks in the sauna? Westerners baffled Eduard.

“You go in the sauna naked.”

“Really? Well, I wouldn’t want to disrespect the local culture.” He took off his shirt.

“Yeah, it’s not a weird thing for us. You have public saunas, and families sauna together.”

“So you’ve seen your dad’s dick? Your mum’s snatch?” Logan cackled.

“It’s a normal thing.”

“So Estonians see all the dicks they want, then.”

“Do you want to go in or not?”

“Nah, I will, if you go in with me.”

“Of course.”

“Can I pee in it?”

“Absolutely not.”

“So it’s not like a shower, then?”

Eduard didn’t dignify that with a response, and wandered into the bathroom to get the sauna running. Nice and boiling hot, just how he liked it. The tourist wouldn’t be able to stand it; there was no way he’d be strong enough. If he was still conscious by the time he got out it was too cold.

Logan followed him, taking off his jorts and boxers, and Eduard realised he’d made a terrible mistake.

This man’s penis was at least 6 inches longer than his own.

It looked like a kohuke, actually. But bigger and veinier and rounder. And covered in hair. And Eduard couldn’t take his eyes off it. He wanted it in him like serotonin. Was there any polite way of asking this man to fuck him? He looked like he’d be up for fucking anything.

“I knew you Europeans were all perverts!” Logan covered his junk, and Eduard blushed. “Am I just a piece of meat to you? A hot, foreign piece of quality Australian meat to object-iffy?”

“Sorry, I- sorry. I just… I’ll get naked too, so it’s less weird.” It would probably make things even weirder, and he was a little self-conscious about the 3-inch punisher, but the alternative was having a naked man trapped in his flat and that was just dodgy.

It was weird, being attracted to men with big dicks. It was hot, definitely, and the thought that it might rupture his internal organs and kill him was a nice bonus - not in a freaky way, just in a sad one - but he was as insecure as he was horny. What if they were judging him? What if Logan went back to his friends to laugh at him?

He also got nervous about taking it, but that never stopped him. Hypothetically.

At least it wasn’t cold in the bathroom, he decided as he took off his trousers. That might give him an extra centimetre.

The two of them sat down. He tried to look at his face and make conversation, but the only thought his brain could come up with was along the lines of “it’s three times your size, six inches bigger, a whole three times the size of your dick, it might even be seven inches bigger, maths isn’t happening right now, you could line three of your dicks up and it would be approximately the size of his, please, for the love of god, do not get a boner”.

Too late.

Logan looked at it. Eduard pointedly looked at the glass. He wanted to evaporate into the steam. There was a long period of silence. And then Logan let out a fart: fat, long, and moist. He shut his eyes and smiled, relishing in it for its 10-second entirety.

“That was a good one.”

Eduard was too busy trying not to gag to reply. The smell was fucking rancid, like a skunk had crawled up his arse and died like a week ago. And in the sauna, it was ten times worse.

Logan got himself up and checked the seat. “Just… don’t want to have shat myself. I mean, I can usually tell when I’ve shit, because I start screaming, but it doesn’t hurt to check. We good? Yeah, we’re good. Shit-free this time.”

“Great.” Well, Eduard no longer had a boner.

“Smells fucking ripe though. Take a whiff of that!”

Eduard was trying very hard not to.

“She’s a wet one!”

“Indeed.”

Logan poured water onto the coals. “You ever fuck in these?” he asked. Eduard wasn’t sure whether or not this was an improvement.

“No. That’s disgusting. We’re shedding dead skin; the last thing this water vapor needs is syphilis.” No one fucked in his bed either, but that was beside the point.

“I don’t have siff… that. Anymore. I don’t think.”

Eduard had the disgusting thought that Logan’s dick was that size due to being stuffed full of STDs like a poorly-made teddy bear, or the desired state of his butthole, then he realised that was the kind of anatomical thinking from a guy that didn’t get laid, and hated his surgeon dad enough to refuse to learn about biology.

“Would you even wanna try fucking in this?”

“No, never. The sauna is sacred. I have a bed, though.” He didn’t know if it was the drink or his dick that said that last bit.

“We’re fucking in that, then?”

“Y-yeah,” he squeaked. Was it really that easy? He looked at Logan’s penis and his butthole quivered in anticipation.

Logan took his hand, and squeezed it reassuringly before kissing him, tenderly and lovingly. Just like how Eduard had imagined Harrison Ford doing to him as a teen. Eduard tried not to immediately start crying.

“Thanks.”

“Are you okay?”

“Can you kiss me again, maybe, please, if it’s no trouble?”

Logan laughed at him and kissed him again. He was so warm. He wrapped his arms around Eduard in the hug his parents never gave him. Then again, if Eduard’s parents had given him naked hugs he’d be a different kind of messed up.

“Bed?”

Eduard nodded. “Yeah, it’s in my room.”

They got out of the sauna. Eduard didn’t bother to get dressed, but Logan went out of his way to put his socks back on. Then his crocs and fanny pack, which had “the best almends in tawn” scrawled in tipex, upside down too. Implying Logan didn’t take it off to write that. He knew the reference: the almond cart a few streets down. They were some good-ass almonds, but were now ruined.

“My nips are cold,” he whined. “They need warming. With your mouth-hole.”

Eduard had no idea how to respond, so put his mouth on one of Logan’s nipple’s like a fish, and just kept it there.

“Fucking hell, you never sucked a titty before?”

“I have! Several!” He’d sucked no titties in his life. His mother never even bothered breastfeeding him. He tried to suck Logan’s.

“I think maybe we should just get to the butt-peeing.”

“The what ?”

“I’m just kidding, haha, unless you’re down?”

“No!”

“Okay, just kidding.”

Eduard realised he was going to have to suck this guy’s dick. This monster schlong had to somehow fit in his mouth. And it might have pee on it.

He also realised that this meant someone liked him enough to let him do that, so he let the thought go.

Logan picked him up tenderly, and Eduard curled up against his warm chest like one of those hairless raw chicken cats. Logan kissed the top of his head, and he squeezed his eyes shut to hold back a tear of loneliness.

"So, mate, where's your bedroom?"

"Second door on the left."

Logan carried him into the bedroom and gently set him down on the bed.

“Now, I know you’ve probably heard your first time is supposed to hurt, but it won’t if we prepare properly.” He kissed his forehead.

“This isn’t my first time! I fuck frequently!”

“Okay, I believe you. Still gonna take it easy on you.”

“Please dick me to death.”

“Still sad about the song contest thing, yeah?” He stroked his hair.

“I have clinical depression.”

“Want me to choke you?”

“ I have clinical depression . And daddy issues.”

“So, yes?”

“ Please .”

“I got something else you can choke on. Unless you can unhinge your jaw like a snake. That would be hot.”

“I can’t. I can devour almost a whole bottle of vodka in one go though, so… close enough?”

“So I just have to nut a vodka bottle’s worth? I can do that.”

“I mean. You don’t have to.”

“No, I’m gonna.”

“Look, I’ll try if you nut like a human being and not a fire hose.” Eduard took this incredible, magnificent penis in his hands - both, because it was thick - and gave it a lick. It was warm, and rubbery. He liked the warmth of another human being.

“C’mon,” Logan groaned, “Your dog licks better.”

“Fuck her then. No wait, don’t!” Eduard looked at the purple baton. “I’m just… out of practice. I’ll get the hang of it.”

“How out of practice?”

“Do I look like I’ve been counting the years?”

“Yes. You wear glasses. Surely it would only be one hand’s worth anyway.”

“No. And I can’t count on the other one, I’m using it for other things.”

“Jacking off til you pass out? Whilst crying?”

“Shush.”

“Take that as a yes.”

“Also drinking. But… not far off.”

“You gonna suck this dick or what?”

Eduard’s distaste for being bossed about flared up, and he wrinkled his nose. “Suck your own dic- I mean yeah.”

“We can stop if you want.”

“Fuck no.” Eduard swallowed the dick like he frequently swallowed his pride. He slowly put the whole thing in his mouth; that’s what you were supposed to do, right? It’s what the beautiful women on pornhub did. Was he supposed to fit the balls in too? Logan’s were fucking massive, so he hoped not, but maybe he should, just to be on the safe side.

“Christ, mate, let yourself breathe!”

He pulled off of him. “I’m good.”

“You’re gonna do yourself some damage.”

“You’re flattering yourself.”

“You seen this thing? I’ve earned it.”

“And I’ll suck the soul outta you.”

“So did your dad leave or just not love you?”

“I’ll bite your dick.”

“Hot.”

“How do I threaten you without you being horny about it?”

“You can’t.”

Eduard sighed and sucked his dick like it was the titty his mother denied him. Every time he made a choking sound, Logan groaned, but Ed had no gag reflex so all was well. Sometimes, he sounded like he was coughing up a hairball, but it was endearing in a way. Logan stroked his hair, and Eduard closed his eyes at the touch like a loving, affectionate cat. He tried to meet his eyes, but it felt weird so he stuck to staring at his bellybutton.

Eventually, Logan pulled his head back. “Okay, I think it’s your turn.”

“I can carry on if you want.”

He just chuckled. “Get up.”

Eduard awkwardly arranged himself on the bed, his legs a little apart. “Like this?”

“Yeah,” Logan rested his cheek on Eduard’s knee, giving him a caring smile before going down.

Eduard’s soul left his fucking body at the feeling of having his dick sucked. Logan wasn’t shy, looking him right in the eyes as he milked his little yoghurt machine. He’d clearly had practice, licking it like it was ice cream and sucking like a vacuum cleaner. If Eduard hadn’t already blown at least 40 loads into his hand during the week, he might have nutted right then and there.

He heard the clattering of claws, and a series of barks.

Logan had forgotten to close the door.

“Siiri!” cried Ed, “get out! Bad dog! Go to bed!”

Logan stopped sucking his dick, and it flopped onto Eduard’s stomach with a wet pop. Logan’s spit quickly cooled, and he didn’t like the feeling.

“Aww, let her stay.” Logan reached over and lifted her onto the bed. He fussed over the little dog, with the stupid, high-pitched voice and rubbing her belly.

“We can’t let her stay in my room! We’re doing sex!” He covered himself self-consciously, as if Siiri was judging.

“So? My dog watches me.”

“That’s just weird.” Eduard got to his feet, picked up Siiri, and bowled her gently out the door. “No watching, and go to sleep.”

Siiri barked at him.

“Yeah, yip to you too.” He shut the door and sat back down on the bed. “I think I have a condom.” He reached for his wallet; there was a condom he kept there, for miracles. It was probably older than Siiri, but its day had finally come.

The moment he took it out, it disintegrated in his hand. Miracles were hard to come by.

“That’s okay,” Logan kissed his neck, “bareback’s better.”

Eduard was going to get every STD known to man, and a few undiscovered ones too, but, at that moment, he was too horny to care. “Alright, how- how do you want me to do this?”

“Maybe…” Logan thought about it, “we start with missionary. Then we can gayly gaze into each other’s eyes.”

“A gay’s gaze.”

“Yes! Then after, maybe doggy cause then it’s like we’re mating.”

“We’re sticking to missionary.”

“Aww, you like these eyes?”

“I like not being compared to animals.” He did have nice eyes though.

Logan tenderly placed a hand to his chest and pushed him back on the bed. He held Eduard’s hand, and leaned in for a kiss. Eduard couldn’t remember the last time he’d had his hand held.

“Thank you.” His voice cracked.

Logan blinked. Was that the wrong thing to say? He didn’t comment on it, though, and focused on kissing Eduard’s neck.

“Ya got any lube?”

“I have lotion. Will that work.”

“Of course you d- yeah that works.”

Eduard reached into the bedside table for his bottle of lotion.

“This is nice stuff, for jacking-off lotion.”

“I like how vanilla smells.”

“It does smell nice,” he agreed, sniffing the bottle.

“Use some if you want.”

Logan rubbed it between his hands. “Nice. This why you so smooth?”

“Mm.”

“Like a shark.”

“Please don’t fuck a shark.”

“I won’t. Not until I’m done with you.” He spread Eduard’s legs as he spread lotion over his fingers. Eduard shuddered as Logan circled his butthole with a finger before slipping it in.

Eduard swore, but in Estonian so Logan wouldn’t know. It felt like taking a shit, but in a sexy way.

“You know sharks have two dicks?” said Logan for conversation.

“A weird thing to say when you’re fingering me.” Eduard gave a groan, and then a rattling breath as Logan added another finger. “Could you slow down, please?” he whimpered. Logan nodded and took out his second finger.

“Sure thing, mate. It’s okay.” He massaged Eduard’s shoulder as he fingered him with one finger.

“Your hands are so big,” he whined. “It feels like I’m getting a rectal exam from Jason Momoa.”

“Shit, mate, I ain’t even put me dick in yet.”

“Yeah, gonna need you to prepare me a lot more.” Eduard was having a good time, but his butthole had been so empty lately it was tighter than a nipple clamp and gathering dust.

Logan fingered him like a bowling ball, slowly opening up his tight bootyhole in a way his dad never did when he was little. A wee fucking ghost that had been forgotten there just came out of the butt, yelled “WOOOO” and flew out the window. Okay, Logan made that last part up, but his shitter was dusty af.

He lubed that asshole up like a slip n’ slide. He fingered it until it looked like a canyon in the middle of a very flat plain. When Logan spanked Ed’s cheek, it sounded hollow.

Even though Eduard had a normally deep voice, it went all high and bottom-y as he moaned from the spank. Logan raised an eyebrow.

“Shit, think ya ready?”

“I- yeah. Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Logan put his fanny batter splatterer into Eduard’s red dwarf and Eduard’s mind hit reset. It was bigger than any shit he’d ever taken, but still moved against his rectum like one. Logan put his dick halfway in, then paused.

“You okay,” he clutched Eduard’s sweaty hand.

He nodded.

“Are you crying?”

“What? No. Don’t let go of my hand though.”

Logan nodded, then stuck his wingwang in down to the balls. The balls weren’t meant to go in too, right? Eduard was sure it was about to come out of his mouth it was so big. He felt like a kebab.

He moaned from the dick and cried from the handholding, but this was the best he’d felt in months. He never wanted it to end. But knowing how long he lasted, it would all too soon. He mentally congratulated himself for lasting this long. He had been expecting to nut in the sauna, the second he undressed. Logan went slowly at first, letting him get used to the feeling, but when Eduard gave the word, he picked up the pace, hips and nuts slapping against Eduard’s arse and making the noise of someone slapping a raw chicken with a raw fish. He wondered if he’d get salmonella from Logan’s dick along with the 30 or so STDs he’d have after this. It also sounded a bit like using a toilet plunger on a turd-blocked shitter. Eduard now wished he’d hurry up and orgasm so maybe his brain would turn off for a second and he’d stop thinking stupid shit.

“You like that? You like my chunky thundermeat?”

Eduard wished he could say he didn’t. But he did. His butthole wouldn’t later, but for now he was groaning like that time he discovered autoerotic asphyxiation. And egg-mayo sandwiches.

Logan went harder. Not insanely hard, just enough to have Eduard moaning and whimpering and begging for more. His soul felt like when you hold the start button on a computer instead of shutting it down manually because it was broken. His soul was healing, becoming reanimated. Or maybe he was just really, really horny and touch-starved.

“Big,” he mumbled, trying to get words out of his mouth semi-coherently.

“Yeah? You like the big meat, then?”

“It’s lovely. Thank you.”

“No… no problem.” Logan kissed him to shut him up. Then choked him and Ed came like Jesus. Shortly after, Logan bust a chunky nut in Eduard’s bootyhole. He moaned at the moisture in his colon, and at the cold rush on his back as Logan pulled out and collapsed next to him. He arranged his duvet so that the cold air could hit his aching hole as he held onto him. Logan cuddled him gently, wrapping the rest of the duvet around them.

“Was that good? Did I do good? Tell me I did a good sex.”

“You did a great sex.” He kissed his forehead. “I’m proud of you.”

Eduard was definitely crying now. No one had ever been proud of him before. Maybe it was the alcohol, and being in the arms of a naked man, but he felt exposed. Vulnerable. Like he was about to start oversharing at any minute.

“Stay with me,” he whispered, “I want you to stay with me forever.” Well, at least he wasn’t talking about his childhood.

“I have to go in the morning, I’m afraid,” Logan mumbled, “but I’ll be back. And we have tonight.”

Eduard nodded. “Yes. Please hold me tonight.”

Logan kissed his temple, lips warm against cold sweat. “I will, baby.”

...

The sun filtered through the curtains the next morning, hurting Eduard’s eyes through his eyelids, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret drinking. He woke up in Logan’s arms, held tenderly to his chest in a way his touch-starved self had only fantasized about before.

So this was what affection felt like. He wanted more.

For the first time in his life, Eduard didn’t feel like getting up right away. He let a sleeping Logan hold him. He was so lovely and warm, like a sauna, he didn’t want him to go.

When Logan woke up, he didn’t seem to be in a rush either. He opened his eyes halfway, smiled at him, and let out a long fart. Lovely.

“Sleep well?”

Eduard nodded.

“Sorry,” Logan eventually prized himself away, “I’ll be back to spoon, but is it alright if I just give my dick a quick wash? Gotta keep it clean. Do it after every root, just to keep the infections at bay.”

Eduard nodded weakly, and Logan disappeared.

What the fuck kind of moron just nutted in him? The kind that thought tap water got rid of gonorrhoea? He’d have to be tested for everything now. And disinfect the sauna. Or just burn and rebuild it. Kill their airborne herpes, and the probable skidmarks on the wooden bench. Eduard couldn’t believe his beloved sauna now resembled some disgusting Polish sauna.

Not to mention he'd have to bulldoze the sink, shower and anything else his penis had touched. Then the toilet, judging by the distant screaming.

Logan came back, drying his cock with toilet paper. “Sorry bout that. Found out the hard - heh - way that you’re not allowed to use an airport sink to clean your junk.” He climbed back into bed and cuddled up to Eduard. The guy was so lucky he was warm and nice and had a massive dick. Eduard wouldn't have minded a round two. It wasn’t like he could get infected twice. “I’m not allowed into so many airports.”

“What time do you have to leave?” he asked, deciding he didn’t have time to unpack all of that, no matter when he had to leave.

“Not til this evening, baby,” Logan kissed the back of his neck.

“Great, we can do like a hundred sex.”

“You want me to pee in your butt all day or what?”

“Maybe do something else.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, literally anything else.”

“I mean… I could shit in your butt.”

“Please just have sex with me and don’t talk for the entire time.”

“I can do that. And after that maybe I should get home and get packed. I’m meant to leave.”

“Do you know how to get home?”

“Toldja last night. Pink house. Orange roof.”

“Do you have an address?”

“Maybe. We’ll see.”

“Feel like you should know the address of your own airbnb.”

“What are you, my dad?”

“I hope not. You wrecked my butthole last night.”

“And I’ll wreck it again today if ya want.”

“I do, we already established that.”

Logan climbed back into bed and kissed him, scrambling for the lotion. He lubed Eduard up then clapped those cheeks like white people when the plane lands. Eduard lay on his stomach, too lazy to do anything else, just enjoying this guy’s fat nuts hitting him like a wrecking ball as his ass got drilled for the second time.

He knew his neighbours could hear him - he could always hear them - but he didn’t care. Revenge time. He moaned like a hungry cat as Logan choked and kissed him, stroking his hair. Even when he was being rough, he was gentle with him. Caring. Tender. His hand was tight on his throat but his lips were gentle.

Eduard moaned as Logan ate his ass like a rack of ribs, then put the dick back in and put him in a load of different positions whilst Eduard tried not to fart. Or nut early. When he did nut, Logan wasn’t far behind. He collapsed next to him, pulling Eduard into a hug and kissing his cheek lazily. He was so warm.

“You’re pretty,” he mumbled, “you got nice eyes.”

Eduard blushed. “So do you. I’m not sure I have, though, I mean, my glasses sorta get in the way-”

Logan took them off, then stroked his fringe back. “Beautiful.”

“Blind.”

He smiled and handed his glasses back, after wiping droplets of nut off them. “Wow, you’re an amazing sniper.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

“One time I sniped a spider on the ceiling with my nut. Proudest moment. Glad I’d had a wank instead of bothering with kids.”

Eduard nodded, because he had no idea what to say to that. He didn’t want to leave Logan’s arms, but he needed to get up. But then the spell would be broken, and reality would set in and Logan would be gone.

“I need to shower,” he mumbled, making no attempt to move. Logan caught on.

“We can shower together.”

“But then we’ll see each other naked.”

“Ed, baby, we’ve already seen each other naked. We’re naked now.”

Eduard gasped. “Then maybe we can walk around naked and shower naked together!”

“And have a goodbye fuck in the shower. Nice and warm.”

Eduard nodded. “Nice and warm.”

...

Logan’s violet vuvuzela looked like it had been microwaved after it’s third nut in 24 hours, and Eduard’s hole looked like the Darvaza gas crater in Turkmenistan. He could barely stand up, his legs were shaking from his latest orgasm. He clung to Logan, who kissed his neck lazily. The shower still rained down on them, warming Eduard’s shoulders. Logan’s now sported tiny bruises where Eduard had clutched them, and scratches all down his back.

“I’m gonna fucking miss you,” Logan growled in his ear, huskily like Balto, “and I’m gonna miss fucking you.”

“Me too,” Eduard buried his face in his chest, trying not to cry again. He’d done his crying for the year now. “Come on, we gotta find out where you live.”

“Oh, Fabs texted me while I was on the shitter earlier,” said Logan, “they’ve got all my stuff packed and I can meet ‘em at the airport. Means we have a few hours before we gotta go there. We can do anything you want.” He played with Eduard’s nipples.

“I think we’ve been cooped up in here long enough, also my hole needs a rest. I’ll show you round the city, now you’ve sobered up.”

Logan thought about it, then nodded. “I’d like that. Be nice to go home having actually learnt something. Other than Estonians hate it when I try and talk Estonian.”

“It’s the accent. It butchers all languages.”

“To be honest, people don’t like it when I speak English either. Or any language.”

“Maybe it’s what you say, rather than how you pronounce it.”

“So are you gonna take me sightseeing or what?”

...

Eduard didn’t want him to go. He wanted Logan to stay and hold and raw him forever, but, instead, he pulled away like he didn’t pull out and left to go through security with a wave, leaving Eduard, heartbroken in the middle of the airport.

Their day together had been magical, even if everything Logan said out loud was horrendous. Sometimes, he’d even managed to make Eduard laugh. Sometimes.

But he’d asked questions, about both Eduard and Estonia, and Eduard appreciated that. He also giggled at any Estonian word that sounded vaguely rude (depoo? Really?), but Eduard could look past that. Most importantly, he’d had fun with another human being for the first time in forever.

But Logan was gone, without so much as a number.

Eduard could look him up, stalk him on every social media, but he’d be too afraid to follow him. Besides, this weekend hadn’t meant anything to Logan. He’d move on. He’d probably sleep with half the plane before it made it back to Australia. Eduard was nothing to him.

So he might as well move on.

...

The sounds of laughter filled the bar. The whole of the choir sat around a table, struggling to find empty places to put their beers down among the sea of empty pint glasses. Eduard sat with them, sipping his beer, listening politely to the conversation but not contributing a word.

One of their sopranos stood up from her seat, holding up her glass. “Congratulations to all of us! We worked really hard, and if any of the choirs performing tonight earned it, I think it was us. Who wants another round?”

Eduard cheered with the rest of them. He had won! Well. Him and the rest of them. But he’d had a solo, so technically him.

To think this time last year, he’d been at this very bar, - alone because everyone found him unbearable - drinking away his sorrows, and now he was with his whole choir, celebrating their latest win. He still thought about that night every now and then.

He took a moment out from the festivities as the choir launched into a drunken reprise of their songs to use the toilets. As nice as they were, it was nice to celebrate in his head, silently, to relish in his victory without screaming it from the rooftops. He replayed that moment, the cheers of the crowd as they were announced the winners, the nearest singer tackling him into a hug with excitement.

And then someone took the urinal next to him, rolling his jorts down to his ankles. He glanced aside bitterly, but-

Oh, shit. He’d know that meat hammer anywhere.

He almost pissed all over him tripping over his own feet, but he composed himself, zipped his jeans back up, and turned to look at him.

“Logan?”

He grinned back at him, not ceasing his piss. It was like a water cannon. “Long time, no see.”

Eduard gazed at him, not sure what he was meant to say. “Very.”

“Small world.”

“Mhmm.”

“Kidding. I was actually hoping I’d bump into you.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“I mean… why are you here, not,, that sounded self-pitying.”

He leaned on the wall seductively, still peeing. “Well, you know, I read somewhere there’s this legendary song festival going on. Thought I’d check it out.”

Eduard grinned. “Oh, yeah. Heard that’s good.”

“And there was this guy on one of the choirs who had… well, in my opinion, at least, the guy had the voice of an angel. He looked kinda familiar, too. Couldn’t quite place him.” Logan flicked twice for Jesus and put his dick back in his pants.

“How did he do in the competition?”

Logan tilted his head at him, glancing between Eduard’s eyes and lips. “I think his choir won, actually. They’re in some bar now, belting out folk songs.”

Eduard laughed. “Yeah, they were good, weren’t they?”

“They were amazing.”

“Did you… come all the way to Estonia to see me perform?”

Logan scratched the back of his head. “Well, it’s a nice country. I sort of saw all the sights in one morning last time I was here, and… well. I guess the men here really are something.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Maybe.”

“You think I’m a good singer?”

“You won, didn’t you?”

“I guess we did.”

“Actually, there’s another reason I went to Estonia.”

“Mm?”

“Well, there was this really nice little sauna. Really relaxing. I used it on my last night there. Really sweated me out good. I was wondering if I could have another go in it. Just for a bit?”

“You inviting yourself over?”

“Uh-”

“Into my sauna , no less? You realise that’s like… Estonian equivalent of asking if you can rob someone’s house?”

“Sorry.”

Eduard laughed at him. “I’m kidding. Come on, let’s get home.”

#ozest #APH Australia #APH Estonia #hetalia #Hetalia fic #APH Seychelles #APH New Zealand #aph cameroon #tikolanesla #this is the stupidest thing written #oneshot #hetalia estonia #hetalia australia #aph #Hetalia Fanfiction

10 notes · View notes

romaniassexdungeon · 5 years

Text

Effervescent

Chapter 1: Hit the Sack

Pairing: DenEst/OzEst (side NedVia)

Warnings: lemon, terrible comedy

Summary: Eduard's furious when he finds his friend has written his phone number on a bathroom wall. He's also horny enough to give it a try, but when things get serious, he's found he might've lead two different guys on.

Notes: Co-written with @tikola-nesla First of all, we're so sorry for this terrible piece of shit. But also not because this was hilarious to write. This story follows Ed and his pathetic love life.

...

Jānis - Latvia Tomas - Lithuania Adriaan - Netherlands Gunner - Denmark Logan - Australia

Read on AO3

...

Eduard was livid. He was going to kill Jānis for this!

For once, his weak little arms didn’t struggle against the stupidly heavy door to the men’s bathroom, and he burst inside in a flurry of fury. He practically punched open the door to the furthest stall, where his number had been written under ‘call for a good time’. His hand shook with rage as he took out a marker and crossed out the word ‘call’.

Next to it, he wrote ‘text’.

He knew he should cross out his number instead, but to be fair, he was going through a dry spell. A dry spell that had lasted the five years since graduating university. He’d take whatever sleezeball creeps responded to these kinds of messages at this point. Honestly, it beat genuinely wondering if he should count that tapeworm as the last time someone had been inside him, or wearing turtlenecks that were a little too small to get the feeling of being choked.

And it wasn’t like this was some shady nightclub, it was the Kiek in de Kök Fortification Museum. Who would look for hookups in the bathroom of a fortification museum? Someone super weird, probably. Or an old guy. Maybe a sugar daddy to pay off his student loans. Or a mysterious, rich tourist from a far off land, and they’d have a fling before parting ways forever.

Or, he’d end up talking to someone, getting along, then sending a picture of his face and not getting a reply. Or not even waiting for that and getting bored of his messages. He wasn’t good with people.

Still, with that little incident taken care of, he marched back outside to join his friends. Maybe they could have a normal day out now without being reminded of how sad and lonely his life was?

“I was just trying to help,” Jānis mumbled into his jumper when Eduard joined them.

“You have a really weird definition of ‘help’,” Eduard commented.

“We just want the best for you,” said Tomas, trying to play the peacemaker like he wasn’t equally as horrified at Jānis’ barefaced cheek and terrible attempt at helping his friend get laid. There was no helping Eduard and everyone knew it.

“You mean like how you went with me to the hospital to get that tapeworm removed? Oh wait!”

“We have our limits.”

“Yeah,” said Jānis, “and didn’t your cousin go with you instead?”

“Yes! And he livetweeted the entire thing! Now I’m known as that loser who was so lonely and depressed he ate raw herring until he got a tapeworm.”

“It’s not like we fed you the herring ourselves,” Jānis wrinkled his nose, “don’t blame us for your life being a mess.”

Before Eduard could even think of a reply, Tomas stepped between them again. “That’s all well and good,” he began like he’d stopped listening since he last spoke, “but I think we’ve left Feliks on his own for long enough, so we should go find him. Also I came here to look at a big fort, not talk about how lonely Eduard is. We do that enough.”

...

And in the hour or so it took the four of them to look around Kiek in de Kök, Eduard received two messages, both of which were dick pics.

“Let me see!” cried Jānis, craning his neck. Eduard pushed him away and held his phone out of reach. It wasn’t hard.

“If you wanted to see dicks, you shouldn’t have been born a manlet.”

“I’m dick-height sometimes actually. You’ve seen my boyfriend.”

Eduard nodded; he totally wasn’t jealous. “The skyscraper?” His boyfriend was so tall, and toned and handsome. He seemed like a complete dick, though, to everyone except Jānis. Eduard had met Adriaan a few times, and even just thinking about the guy made him softer than a saveloy. But around Jānis, he was gentle and caring, writing him poetry and sending him flowers from his own garden.

“Yup, and, oh, I love going up that elevator.”

“Slut.” Eduard got to looking at his dick pic collection. They were both very nice. Bigger than his, of course, but he was a bottom so he didn’t mind so much.

“Nice,” said Feliks, peeking over his shoulder, “what’re you gonna reply with?”

“Honestly? No idea.”

“Hmm, they’re not that big,” said Tomas, and everyone looked at him in bewilderment. “What? Can’t be more than, like… ten inches.”

Jānis looked at him. “If I wasn’t in a relationship, and we weren’t distantly related, I would be on that dick like-”

“Please,” Tomas begged, “don’t finish that sentence.”

“-like dust on Ed’s condom box.”

“Hey!” Why did everything always come back to roasting him?

“You can’t see the logo on it anymore. It’s like an old relic.”

“Like one of those nerdy boxes Tomas buys at the medieval fair,” said Feliks, “the old-worldy handmade ones.”

“You like medieval fairs too,” Tomas mumbled.

“I never spent €50 on an empty wooden box.”

“It had a nice pattern!”

“What do you even keep in it?”

“A second, smaller box.”

“And in that?”

“My copy of Space Jam.”

“You have shelves!”

“Well, I had to keep something in there!”

No one noticed Jānis reaching for Eduard’s phone until it was too late and he’d snatched it away. He typed as he dodged Eduard’s attempts to get it back, and it wasn’t until he’d copied and pasted a paragraph into both DMs that Eduard could finally see what he’d wrote:

I want you to take that dick and fuck me until I can’t walk and have to wheelchair myself through Old Tallinn to the nearest hospital and my bussy looks like the Ülemiste Tunnel. Nut in every hole then my face until I’m numb physically instead of emotionally.

“What the fuck, Jānis?”

Tomas craned his neck over Eduard’s shoulder. “You’ve gotta admit he’s got game. Just... Not sure what game he's playing.”

“I want to die.”

“You always want to die,” said Feliks.

Jānis shrugged. “Confidence is key.”

“Is this how you bagged the skyscraper?”

“God no. That would be terrible. I talked to him like a person.”

Eduard gave him a withering look, then frantically texted the first guy back.

I’m so sorry, my friend sent that.

“Dude,” Feliks told him, reading over his shoulder, “You couldn’t have sounded more like you were lying if you tried.”

“It’s the truth!”

“So?”

Eduard groaned.

He’d already texted back.

So you don’t wanna get Ülemisted?

Eduard did, he supposed. But it was way too embarrassing to admit that.

Feliks took his phone. “Maybe I do.”

“Hey!” He tried to snatch his phone back, and Feliks elbowed him.

What’s your name?

Gunner, and u?

Eduard.

Well, Eduard, what would you, not your friend, like me to do to you?

Eduard stared at his phone. He had no idea how to put the thoughts in his head into words, and even if he did, he’d be too scared to say anything.

But he had to try.

One sex please?

He fucking hated himself.

Haha I can arrange that.

Eduard didn’t trust people who spelt out their laughs in texts. It was a little menacing. Keysmash like the rest of us, asshole. At least it meant he was a top, he supposed.

You can arrange my insides.

It was an attempt at a flirt, albeit a horrible one.

“Isn’t it “rearrange”,” said Feliks.

“Well, if it’s “rearrange”, who arranged them the first time?”

“Fucking virgin.”

“I’m not! I’ve done many sex! I did one yesterday!”

“When?” asked Tomas, “we were playing Dungeons and Dragons all day.”

“Your dad was sucking me off under the table.”

“He died six years ago; you went to his funeral.”

“Yeah. I dicked him to death.”

Tomas squinted at him.

“Too far?”

“I just can’t take any claim of you topping seriously.”

“I can top!”

“You can top a cake, maybe,” said Jānis, “if you baked cakes instead of depression bread.”

“I don’t always bake depression bread!”

“You’re depressed therefore every bread you bake is depression bread.”

“I like kneading!”

“Why don’t you knead a pair of titties for once, Eduard?”

“Gonna knead your mum’s titties if you keep talking shit.”

Tomas swatted at him. “She’s dead too!”

“And?”

“How do you have friends?” asked Feliks.

“I don’t, really,” admitted Eduard, “you guys were a miracle.”

“I don’t know if I should be flattered you consider me a miracle,” Tomas told him, “Or offended you don’t consider me a friend.”

“I do. Miracle friends. Miracles are friendships and times I need to use a condom.”

“Maybe you can use some now,” said Jānis.

“Jānis! We’re outside!”

“You know what I mean.”

“Impromptu water balloons?”

“Ed doesn’t, cause he’s a loser,” said Feliks. “Anyway, any replies yet?”

Eduard checked his phone. The second guy had replied.

Fuk u for making me read all that.

Then a second later.

Still down 2 smsah tho.

That message doesn’t represent me. That was my friend.

Haha i beleev u!

If the guy’s dick wasn’t so big, Eduard would’ve blocked him for his atrocious spelling.

Tomas looked over his shoulder. “How did he manage to spell your phone number?”

“I’m sure he has a good personality.”

I wanna put my cids in your shitter and bread you like a whorse.

“Or… Not, but his dick is massive.”

“Ed, please be sensible.”

“No! I want dick!”

“He’s illiterate!”

“I’m getting my hole ruined by him, not giving him a spelling test.”

Tomas looked like he’d very much like to go home. Eduard wanted to go home too, but only so he could slap his nuts thinking about those massive dicks.

“Anyway, I got work to catch up on.” He gave a cough; “see you guys later.”

“You have an erection,” Jānis pointed out, tactful as ever.

“Nah, it’s just late. Time to hit the sack.” And then go to sleep.

“Which one?”

“Bye, guys!”

“Which sack, Eduard?”

Eduard dashed off before they could ask him again.

#aph estonia #APH Denmark #APH Australia #aph baltics #aph lithunia #aph latvia #aph poland #hetalia #Hetalia Fanfiction #effervescent

7 notes · View notes

romaniassexdungeon · 5 years

Text

Just Kids - chapter 46

A Wy chapter! Don't have much else to say except I wonder if I'll ever get this finished.

Read on AO3

...

New year, new me.

What a heap of shit, the Coopers collectively agreed, and yet, it was the perfect opportunity for Charlie.

No, it wasn’t.

But when would be a good opportunity?

Never.

But he might as well get it all over and done with, find out what his brothers thought and deal with the consequences as they came. As long as it was out in the open, he could start being himself and things would work out in the end.

No, he was 13. Where could he go if Logan kicked him out?

Huna would take him in.

But his life would still be hell, and he would have no family left. And everyone at school would treat him like shit. He might have to change schools, like Oscar did.

He’d still have Peter, Lars, Kuzey and Franz. And Huna.

And he’d probably be murdered in some horrific hate crime. Or die of sadness from every member of his family rejecting him and daily bullying.

He'd survived his own father abandoning him; Charlie could survive this. It didn’t matter how many times life kicked him, he could get back up and try again. The thing was, though, at those times, he always had Logan to help him move on and set up a new life. Do all the grown up work while he just packed his bags, looked after Oscar, and wondered what his new school would be like.

Would Huna do that for him? Blow this town and move somewhere else? Start a new life as Charlie Cooper’s guardian? Not that Charlie could ever ask, but he got the impression Hunapo would do that for him anyway. And it could be fun, hanging out at Hunapo’s studio flat, snuggled up with his new parent-sibling in the fold-down bed, watching bad sitcoms on their little box TV.

Well, Logan had always said Flight of the Conchords was bad, but Charlie had never watched it.

If he turned out to be a transphobic cunt, Charlie would watch every episode with Hunapo out of spite. Whilst eating vegan sausages in an All Blacks shirt.

Still, he didn’t need to think about that now. It was his first day back at school, and he wanted to end the term as a boy. He was going to end the term as a boy.

“Look, I just think it’s important that we’re all on the same level,” he began. Mr Fernandez Carriedo had let him use the room over lunch, apparently to work on their website. Charlie needed somewhere private at school, somewhere he could get everyone together and talk properly. “Some of you know already know what I’m talking about, but I wanna come clean to everyone.”

“Wait, where’s Oscar?” asked Mike.

“I wanna talk to him separately,” said Charlie, “him and Logan. As a family.”

“So it’s a big thing, then,” Mike looked around, “a coming out thing?”

“Yeah,” Charlie picked at a nail. “I’ve been thinking about stuff and I’m trans. I’m a trans guy. I would prefer it if you stuck to calling me Charlie, none of this “Charlotte” wank.”

“Sure thing, man,” said Mike, glancing over at Sal with amusement. Sal was speechless, brain seeming to take a while to process everything.

“You’d make a beautiful man,” he eventually spluttered out. Charlie blinked.

“I know you already told me,” said Franz, “but it’s kinda cool we have some gays and bis and stuff, but you’re our first tran. Congrats.”

“Wait, who’s gay and bi here?” asked Nobuyuki.

A chorus of “me”s sounded from several boys. Kuzey kept very quiet.

“So, is there any straight people besides me?”

“I am, I think,” said Sal.

“Gotta keep a few around,” said Peter, “you know, so no one thinks we’re straightophobic.”

Charlie smiled. He wasn’t alone. Not only did he have Hunapo, but now he had a solid support network of friends. LGBTQ friends who might not know exactly what he was going through, but he wasn’t alone.

He was never going to be alone again.

“I can’t believe we’re your token straights,” said Nobuyuki.

Peter shrugged. “Who else am I gonna talk about football with?”

“Since when did I care about football?”

“No offence but this is about me, remember?” said Charlie, hands on hips. “I’m trying to come out here!”

“Sorry, sorry,” said Lars, “so you gonna come out to the whole school?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I want to start living as a boy, but school sucks. Everyone here sucks.”

“If anyone gives you trouble, we’d shank them,” Franz inspected his nails.

“I need to see how my brothers react, anyway. We can go from there.”

“I mean, I’d be really disappointed in Oscar if he ends up being a dick about it. Like, I like him, but I’d dump his ass in a second. And Logan fancies the agender one, right?”

“Yeah. But it’s different when it’s family, right? It gets real .”

“Fancying one of those transgenders makes it real,” said Peter, "right?"

“Pete, you use transgender as a noun again and I’ll kick you in the dick. We’ve been through this.”

“But it makes you so mad, you transgender.”

Charlie threw a pencil at him.

“You bisexual.”

“Yes, that’s me.”

Kuzey glanced between them.

“Wait, so are you gay or straight?” asked Sal.

“I dunno. I’m nowhere near figuring that out. I’m better than you, but I can only do so much at once. Anyway, might as well get some work done.”

“We got a full inbox,” said Lars, “guess people get lonely over the holidays. I’ve been trying to keep up, but…”

Charlie knew. He’d seen the surprisingly heartfelt, empathetic messages Lars was leaving people, the advice he’d give on bullying, loneliness, being in the closet. The last one Charlie himself had sent in. This was the guy who’d filmed Peter as his appendix burst and pointed and laughed. Lars didn’t do respectful. He wasn’t sensitive. Charlie hadn’t been sure the guy was capable of sympathy.

“We all need to pull our weight,” he told the group, “I want to go to the library in a bit and get some new year reading. Research some issues and how to talk to people about them.”

“A library?” asked Franz.

Charlie shrugged. “Oscar rubs off on me; sometimes I feel like sitting in a library and reading.”

“No, I get it. It’s quiet and aesthetic. Like the art classrooms.”

“You two are lame. I’m gonna play games in the IT suite.” Lars got up. “Later, gayboys.”

“You’re literally the only gay here, Lars,” said Peter, getting out a football and leaving.

Mike and Sal watched everyone else leave one by one, then they pulled out their lunches and phones.

“Think Oscar’s lonely?” asked Mike.

“Probably,” said Sal. “Wanna risk texting him?”

“Nah. Kinda wanna talk about Charlie.”

Sal looked at him, face unreadable for once. “You do?”

“Just... so what do you think about it?”

Sal shrugged. “That’s he- his business. I just want… him to be happy.”

“Still have a crush? I mean, do you get crushes on dudes?”

“No, but Charlie still kinda looks like a girl right now. I mean, when he starts looking like a guy, maybe I’ll not fancy him anymore. Or maybe it’ll turn out I’m bi. I don’t know, but Charlie’s a guy, so… I just want him to be happy.”

“Yeah, just want him to be happy.”

...

Hunapo held his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He would be okay. There were people on Charlie’s side. But it would be really, really nice if his brothers were too.

“We learnt about chromosomes in science,” he began, “you know, about how I have two X chromosomes so I’m a girl and stuff.”

Hunapo smiled. “Yeah, basic biology is so oversimplified. Shame not many people ever move past that.”

“Yeah, like, I’d rather not learn the hard stuff right now, but I still felt weird listening to it. Not as scary as hearing about puberty and how my body's gonna "go through some changes".”

“Don’t worry too much about your chromosomes,” said Hunapo, “you can’t change them, but that’s okay. They tell you what you look like, but they don’t tell you what you are inside.”

“Cheesy. I’m glad you’re with me.”

He hadn’t told Logan he’d asked Hunapo to pick him up from science club, just sent Oscar home and let him explain it. It also gave Logan an hour so to clean up himself and the house for his crush.

Outside his house, Charlie hesitated. This was it, the last chance to turn back. He looked up at Hunapo.

“It’s gonna be okay,” they replied. “Whatever happens, you’re gonna be free to start being who you are.”

He nodded, then opened the door.

...

“I mean,” Logan paced the room as it all sank in, “I guess we’re gonna save on water.”

That wasn’t the response Charlie had been expecting. Not even remotely. He sat on the sofa, watching Logan pace and Oscar sit in silent thought in the armchair. “Er, why?”

“Well, guys don’t shower as much. Some spray does us for a few days. Could probably stretch it out to a week, like me.”

“Absolutely not true,” said Oscar, “Charlie, you’re about to be going through puberty. You’re going to smell. You’re going to get spots and sweat and it’s gross. Please keep showering.”

“This conversations going weirdly,” Charlie mumbled.

Hunapo put down their cup of tea and put an arm around him. “Look, Charlie’s just poured his heart out. Are you gonna accept him or not?”

“Of course. We’re an LGBT-only household now,” Logan ruffled Charlie’s hair. “I mean, fuck, it’s gonna take a while to get used to it, but we’re gonna stick with you. The Coopers got each other’s backs, and no one messes with us.”

“You can have some of my old clothes,” added Oscar, “I think I have some stuff that doesn’t fit.”

“Thanks,” Charlie grinned, “and we can sell the girly clothes and you can use the money for bills-”

Logan cut him off. “No way, it’s your money. You’d have earned it. You can buy yourself some boys clothes and get a haircut.”

“I don’t mind treating Charlie to a haircut,” said Hunapo.

“Because sh- he caught it off you? Fuck. I was trying to joke but slipped up the “she” and “he”, sorry Charlie. It might take a while to get it right.”

“Chill, Loggie. As long as you’re trying. I still misgender myself in my head sometimes.”

“I do too,” added Hunapo, “it’s annoying, but happens. And I haven't finished indoctrinating Charlie in the trans agenda yet.”

"I'm going to throw bricks at fascists!" Charlie chirped.

"I'm so proud of you." Logan sat down next to Charlie and pulled him onto his lap for a cuddle. "Aww, kid, you haven't been worrying about how I'd take it, have you?"

Charlie nodded. "I... we never talked about this kind of stuff. I had no idea how you'd react."

"Everything about you is offensive, down to your smell," said Hunapo flatly.

"Shut the fuck up, Sheepshagger." He kissed the top of Charlie's head. "Chubba-Charlie, I'm always gonna support you, okay? You and Oscar are my brothers. My babies. Remember that. I'm here to help you be who you are."

"I absolutely support you too," added Oscar.

"Love you Loggie. Love you, Oscar."

"Love you too, baby."

#aph wy #aph new zealand #aph molossia #aph seborga #aph ladonia #aph australia #aph hutt river #aph sealand #aph kugelmugel #aph trnc #aph nikko nikko #just kids #oznz #sebwy #mentioned

8 notes · View notes

romaniassexdungeon · 5 years

Text

Mets and Cooper’s Alternative Detective Agency - Chapter 1

Pairing: OzEst (others to come)

Summary: Logan was a single dad, wanting nothing more than to help, and Eduard was just trying to survive. A stolen bike case brings them together as it unravels into something far more sinister, and the start of something special.

Warnings: Homelessness, more to come :)

Hey y'all, it's ya gays Romaniassexdungeon and @larsmoorenhateblog back with another OzEst fic that will probably be sad, and happy, and some dumb, horny humour will be coming out of Oz's mouth. OzEst is slowly picking up shippers now, so to the total three or so other shippers, enjoy! And to anyone who hasn't heard this pairing but is curious: please give this dumb ship a chance and maybe you'll like it. Anyway, this is a detective au and touches upon some sad, yikes stuff, warnings will be added when needed.

...

Logan - Australia

Harriet - Atlantium oc (don’t fear the ocs, it’s okay)

~bring back line breaks~

Read on AO3, also follow @larsmoorenhateblog

...

“Bathroom’s down the hall,” said Logan, “kitchen’s to your right. It’s a box room, I’m afraid, but...” He trailed off, opening the door at the end of the hall. Eduard stepped into his new room, unable to even begin to know how to respond.

He knew he was being stupid. He was making the exact same mistake, but he was too hungry, too tired, to care. Just like last time. And he hated how he was most likely sacrificing freedom for food. Eduard wasn’t a stupid, naive kid this time, but here he was.

“Dinner’s gonna be an hour,” Logan continued, “but feel free to have a snack, if you want. There’s bread, and…” He trailed off, biting his lip. “I’ll let you unpack.” Then he left.

Eduard stood in the middle of the room before sinking onto the bed. It was so, so soft. He’d forgotten what it was like to feel comfortable. He hugged his bag to his chest and looked around. It was a tiny room, just enough space for a single bed and one set of drawers. No personal touches, except a painting of Uluru opposite him.

He didn’t want to unpack. It didn’t feel quite real, and he wanted to make sure he could make a quick getaway.

Logan poked his head back round the door. “I don’t mean to be, well… but feel free to use the shower before dinner. There’s a blue towel on the rack for you.”

...

Earlier that day, Eduard shuffled through the automatic doors of the local supermarket. The security guard looked at him like something he’d scraped off his shoe. Eduard pressed on, trying not to sweat or fidget. He took a breath, and walked calmly down the first aisle. He knew he was homeless, but a homeless person was allowed to go shopping, right? He desperately needed food.

Too desperately.

He had enough change for a chocolate bar. Proof he was buying something, and wasn’t suspicious. Even as a child, it always set him into a state of paranoia, leaving a shop without buying something, a precursor to anxiety. Or maybe he’d always had anxiety.

He saw a tin of spam, and slipped it into his jacket pocket. Not too greedy now, just enough for a few days. Then maybe he could try begging. Maybe he could risk being out on a main street for a day.

Maybe he should just end it all. It wasn’t like anyone would mourn him.

It would solve a lot of crime, though.

He’d only felt that low once before, completely uninterested in what happened to him and whether or not he lived any longer. He just sighed and picked up a sandwich. He missed grainy, brown bread. Egg and cress, fancy. He glanced around before stuffing five chocolate bars down his trousers.

He didn’t bother with the fridge section. He needed food that lasted. Maybe, if he rationed, he could last for a week.

Maybe, he could get away with this.

“Sir?”

Eduard froze. “Yes?” It could only last so long, after all, the perfect crime. He wasn’t exactly inconspicuous.

“Are you paying for that?”

He pivoted on his heel to see a young man, not more than 18, looking straight at him suspiciously, like he’d been waiting for this. Had he been following him around the store, or had Eduard not noticed a camera?

“…Yes.” He was out of practice, lying. He’d been so good at it as a kid. No, mother, I’ve never drunk an alcohol in my life.

He considered his escape routes, thinking about handcuffs and ways to incapacitate a man with a pen. Or maybe he should give himself up; there was food in prison. There was also the chance of him not lasting more than a day. But if he tried to escape, the security guard could catch up to him, and kick the shit out of him. And he probably wasn’t going to be arrested. They’d just ban him from the store, right? “Sir, would you please come with-“

Another man came up behind him, his voice deep and authoritative. Eduard was scared, too stiff to turn and look.

“Hey. Is there a problem?”

“No, no, just-“

“I’m a cop. I can take it from here.”

The young man looked up at him, as if considering his options. As if wondering if his weekend job was really worth the effort of dragging this guy into a back room to wait and do things the official way.

“Thank you, officer.”

Eduard’s blood ran cold.

“Show me what you have.”

Refusing to meet either pair of eyes, Eduard took the sandwich and chocolate bars out, one by one. He handed them to the shelf-stacker. He considered keeping the spam, but the cop was massive and could probably break him, so he handed that over too.

Satisfied, the cop nodded. “Come with me.”

He escorted him out. Maybe he’d have had a chance escaping a supermarket. Prison was another thing entirely. His hand was firm on his shoulder as he marched past shelves, through the automatic doors, and swiftly let go the moment they were out of sight.

“Sorry about that, mate.”

Eduard touched his shoulder where he’d grabbed it, squinting. “What?”

“About making you empty all your stuff out. Had to make it believable.”

“Right, right. What?”

The cop laughed. “They rarely ask for a badge if they don’t care. And that guy definitely didn’t.”

“So you’re…”

“Not a pig, no. Not anymore. You’re safe, don’t worry.”

“You were, uh…”

“Lying, yeah. Again, really sorry about your food. I can make it up to you if you want.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to. Where are you staying?”

“Why do you wanna know?”

“To help. If that’s alright.”

“How?”

“A bed for the night. Or a few nights. A meal.”

He dithered.

“Look, I get it, stranger danger. But I can help you, and I want to. If you want me to.” He shrugged. “Seems like it would help you more than arresting you.”

Common sense weighed against his hunger. “It would. If you’re sure.”

...

Eduard couldn’t believe a man with a 9-year-old daughter was letting a homeless stranger stay in his flat. There had to be something else going on.

The three of them were crowded round a rickety table in the corner of the main room. The girl - Harriet - looked at him. Stared at him. She didn’t know what to make of him, and he couldn’t blame her. He didn’t want to think about what he must have looked like, dirty and wolfing down his food like it was his first meal in months - which maybe it was, though he’d long since lost track of time.

He’d turned down Logan’s suggestion of a shower. He may have been hasty in accepting his help, but he wasn’t an idiot. He wasn’t about to get naked under his roof, give him a full preview.

If this whole place was like the last time, then he wanted to know just what a small child was doing here. Or maybe he didn’t. No - he definitely didn’t. But he could guess.

“How was school?”

“Not bad. We learnt multiplication.”

Maybe it wasn’t as cruel as he assumed. Maybe she was just there to lull him into a false sense of security. You could trust a parent with a little girl, especially one like Harry, well taken care of and happy, learning multiplication and smiling at her dad like that. He was almost offended at the lack of care put into the script. Multiplication? That’s right, keep it vague. Keep it believable. Then they’d have him, right?

And really, who looked at their kid like that anyway? Logan smiled at Harry like she was coming first in a marathon when she was only dipping frozen chicken nuggets in ketchup. No parent actually looked at their kids like that, no matter what stories said.

“Is the whole business with Lina over?”

She nodded, skewering a kebab of curly fries onto her fork. “Mhmm. She gave Princess Cheesy back and I gave her kitty back.”

“Good, good. So, no more fighting?”

“No more fighting.”

“Good. Eduard, you settling in alright?”

Eduard nodded, mouth full of nugget. “Yeah. Thank you so much. This food is amazing.” He was raised to have no option other than polite, and it was delicious.

“I just threw it in the oven.”

He raised his eyebrows. “More than can be said for most of what I’ve eaten lately.”

“Well, there’s more if you want it.”

He nodded, but it felt greedy. He didn’t like to ask for seconds, but the longer this went on, the longer the illusion of safety would last.

Logan piled more chicken nuggets onto his plate, then picked at the curly fries Harry didn’t want, and Eduard ate in silence. He’d always been a slow eater. Now that the blood was flowing in his body again, the ravenous desperation subsiding, he was more than happy to take his time. He savoured them, knowing it may be his only chance to do it.

Harry sat at the coffee table on the other side of the room and drew, whipping out a box of 50 colouring pencils like she meant business. Right, get her out of the way. When she left the room, he knew it was going to happen.

When he was finished, Logan took his plate and washed it up. Nothing else happened.

Logan turned to him, awkwardly hovering by the sink.

“Wanna watch TV?”

Eduard had no idea how to respond.

“Or you can get cleaned up and go to sleep.”

He nodded. It was bound to happen. But Logan left him to it and sat down to watch some nature show. Was he supposed to get clean before anything happened? Were other people showing up later?

After ten minutes of silence, Harry walked over to him and handed him a drawing. It was a decent drawing, for a child, he guessed, of a hairy, messy - apparently smelly from the lines coming from him - homeless man.

“It’s you.” She didn’t need to tell him that, but she did anyway. Last time he’d seen himself in the mirror had been at a client’s house, checking a bruise on his neck, but it was still obvious.

“Thank you,” he said in a small voice. Did she do this for everyone, or was he the first person they’d lured here?

He hated the stubble she’d drawn on. He could feel how rough and patchy it was, and missed shaving. Logan would probably force him to shave it, make him look younger and prettier.

Logan looked over his shoulder. “Harry! Don’t draw smell lines on people!”

“But he’s stinky!”

He put his hands on his hips. “That’s very rude. Say sorry!”

She groaned. “Sorry.”

She was right, though. Or maybe it was a ploy to get him in the shower. He really wanted one, though.

...

Eduard was freshly showered, and still apparently safe. He stepped into the box room, having said goodnight to Logan, in pyjamas far too big for him and a pair of woolly socks Logan had never used, apparently. Because who needed woolly socks in Australia?

It did get ridiculously cold at night, though, and Eduard would probably take anything just to not be sleeping in a tent.

As he slipped under the duvet, something warm brushed against his butt. He jumped, and pulled out a hot water bottle.

And that was when he broke.

He hugged it tightly against its chest like it was the only source of heat in a frozen wasteland, as something caught in his throat. He had almost forgotten how it felt to cry. Things just stopped bothering him. But this, this tiny gesture, this faded red hot water bottle with its threadbare cover, this was what broke him. Call it what you will - compassion, attention to detail, lulling him into a false sense of security, it left him curled up on the bed sobbing. He cried until his eyes could barely stay open with exhaustion.

He didn’t want to let his guard down and sleep, but as soon as he curled up around the water bottle and his head hit the pillow, he was gone.

...

Maybe it was best he shouldn’t stay.

The sun hadn’t begun rising yet, but a grey light was filtering through the windows. Out of habit, Eduard felt for his bag, held with him all night under the covers. Not stolen. Not necessarily an indicator of safety.

His tent was still on top, for some reason, and he wasn’t freezing or boiling. He bolted up and found himself in his new room, under a heavy duvet, water bottle next to him.

It had seemed like a dream, to be honest. The kind where he’d wake up, forget where he was, and, when he remembered, reality ate at his will to live just a little more. Sometimes, he dreamed he had a family. Sometimes he dreamed about Evelin.

He needed to leave before he was trapped.

He slipped a coat on over his pyjamas and searched for his shoes, then put his bag on his back and slipped out of the room.

He found his clothes - cleaned for the first time since he put them on, probably - on the radiator. There was still a lingering smell of B.O., but they were crisp and warm and not covered months worth of dirt. Eduard had always hated being dirty. He hated grimy conditions, but recent circumstances had made that the least of his problems. He packed the clothes away in his bag.

He didn’t want to steal from Logan, not when the man had only given him reasons to trust him, so far, but he doubted the supermarket would be so forgiving if they saw him again.

He looked in the cupboards and pulled out tins of soup and mackerel. He could last on that, then, maybe, the taste of living in a real home where he was safe, and throwing it all away in fear, would finally push him over the edge.

“If you stick around, I’ll do you a fry-up.”

Eduard yelped and jumped, dropping tins all over the floor. Logan was leaning against the door, looking at him in amusement. Now he was in for it. At best, Logan would throw him out, at worst… well, he was definitely trapped now.

“I’m sorry,” he squeaked, picking up the tins, “I’m sorry, I- I’m sorry! I just-”

“I get it. Look, stay here a bit. I promise, it’s okay. At least until you get a job and somewhere to stay. You don’t have to do this.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” he asked, a lump in his throat. “What do you want? What sort of thing are you running here?”

“Running- nothing. Look, I’m just trying to help. I like helping people. That’s why I became a cop, and, well, I think this way is gonna help more people. One at a time, but, well, would a criminal record help you?”

He put the last one back in the cupboard. “There’s food in prison too.”

“I’m not sending you to prison.”

He turned to him. “You don’t know anything about me, and you’re letting me live with you? With your kid? What if I’m dangerous?”

“I know you’ve been handed some rough cards and you need a hand.”

“This isn’t a hand, this is a whole arm. You’re inviting a crazy stranger into your house with a kid. I’m not going to hurt her but I question your judgment.”

“You’re not gonna hurt her?”

“Course not.”

“Then I’m satisfied.”

“That’s exactly what someone who’d hurt your kid would say, though. You really think I’m trustworthy?”

“I mean, if something did happen, I know you know I’d break you in half easily. But also, you seen trustworthy.”

Eduard squirmed. He wasn’t.

“So, want some breakfast?”

His stomach rumbled and he sighed.

...

“Can I use your computer?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

A night had turned into two, into three, into a week. He hadn’t been trapped yet. It would be a weird gambit to play, to keep him safe for this long. He wondered what he was playing at.

Eduard sat at the desk at Logan’s old PC and set up a throwaway email address. It was a long shot - he doubted she still used the same address from when she was 15- but it was something.

Evie,

No.

Evelin,

Also bad. He’d never called her Evelin in his life. Oh well. She knew who she was.

I’m safe.

But was he, though? Logan may have worn him down, but he wasn’t that naïve. Maybe he was playing a long game, trying to break him emotionally by betraying him.

I’m alive.

After all this time, there was so much he had to say to her. And so much more he never wanted her to know. What would she say, he thought, if she saw him now? Maybe the less he said the better. He always was good at being concise.

I’m alive. I love you. Don’t look for me.

Eduard.

#ozest #APH Estonia #APH Australia #Hetalia fic #aph atlantium #mets and cooper's alternative detective agency #hetalia estonia #hetalia australia

10 notes · View notes