Summary: The Hetalia boys have kidnapped the girl of their dreams and are having her participate in a game to woo her hand in marriage. Too bad the girl of their dreams is a lesbian.

Warnings: Coarse language and references to sex, drugs, and alcohol

~Chapter 1~

I Hate Hangovers

Leah was always told that college would be the most scholarly years of her life. Hours upon days upon years of her remaining youth would be wasted away in dusty books and thousand page essays. Once Leah managed to land herself in a college a reasonable distance from her overbearing parents, she found it to be the most sex-filled, alcoholic, hangover-prone days of her life.

The pinnacle of such days was the Saturday night party in the international dorms that lasted well into Sunday morning. Leah barely remembered what happened night before when she woke up at six o'clock sharp the next morning.

The first thing she noticed was the constant buzzing in her temples, liquefying her brain into a mush that rocked in her cranium whenever she dared to move her head. How many beers did she drink last night? She wasn't sure, but she was positive that she had only one shot of vodka and smoked one joint of weed. She next noticed how empty her dorm was. Her roommate, a girl who wanted to change the system while living solely off of a school scholarship, must had found a guy down the hall to share a bed with.

Leah then realized that she was naked. She only slept naked when the sleeping came after the sex. Sure enough, a peek over the side of her bed revealed a foreign bra on her dirty wood floors. It looked red in the bad lighting of her room, though Leah knew that it was actually an expensive pink lace push up a girl could only buy at Victoria's Secret. Leah sat up, rubbing her eyes. Now she had to figure out where the bra's owner was. It wouldn't be the first time she woke up alone after a rough round of sex, but she did not know of any girl who would leave without her bra.

Leah pulled away her bed sheets and tried to climb out of her bed. The alcohol that still coursed through her veins made her topple over onto the floor. Her wide forehead barely missed the edge of her roommate's bed. Leah groaned and sat up again, her bare back pressed against the bed frame. Her room spun and strange shadows appeared on the over side of the dorm. She tried to shake the vertigo away, but it only made the spinning worse.

Leah reached blindly for the bra, patting the floor a few times before hitting the fabric. She barely had it in her hands before she realized that the shadows in the corner of her room were talking.

"Should we ask her to put on clothes?" A man with a Chinese accent asked.

"No. I am enjoying the view," said a French accent.

"But it's improper!" said a German accent.

Leah blinked. Why did the shadows have foreign accents? Why did they even have voices in the first place? Shadows don't speak. How much did she drink last night?

"Oooh!" This voice also had an accent (was that Italian?), though his voice was pitched to the same octave as a girl. Maybe that was the bra's owner. "She noticed us!" A shadow bound from the corner and straight into her face. He became more human as he got closer until Leah could make out a pair of large eyes and a head of curly brown hair. "Hello pretty girl! I'm Italy!"

The man, Italy, wrapped his arms around her neck and hugged her tightly. Leah, still unable to think clearly, did not react until she felt him nuzzle the side of her neck. She shrieked and pushed him away with her hands, but then held him back with her foot for extra measure. She pinned Italy to the opposite bed, watching him as he fawned over her foot. "It's so pretty and slender and your nail polish is really cute! Pink is a really good color on you!"

Leah was grossed out, but she chose to ignore him. She would deal with that idiot later, when her head didn't hurt. She looked at the other shadows, watching one by one as they filed out from her corner. More came from her closet. They spread themselves around her room, some even sitting on the beds. In the end, she counted eleven men of all ethnicities, shapes, and heights. Leah's eyes skimmed over each face, noting all of the wide eyes and blushed cheeks. She scowled. "What?" she demanded, her syllables slurred together. If she was sober, she would have chosen a better greeting, but being drunk, she chosen the first thought that came to her head. "Have you never seen a naked black chick before?"

"None as beautiful as you," said a brutish man with a thick Russian accent. He smiled impishly, his cheek inflating to the size of oranges. "Would you like to become one with me?"

Before Leah could even think to answer, the blond man besides him punched the Russian's cheek. "Hell no, Commie-Bastard! The hero gets to marry her!"

The blond with long wavy hair who sat on the edge of her desk wagged his finger at him. "No, no, no." It was the same French accent from before. "She needs an experience lover that will pleasure her."

Leah scratched the side of her head, trying hopelessly to figure out what they meant. "What are you—"

A man with tanned skin and brown curls cut her off. He placed a calloused hand on the bare of his chest his half-buttoned shirt provided. "That would be me," he said. His accent was Spanish.

The Italy-double sitting next to him crossed his arms over his chest. He sent the Spaniard a dark glower. "Hell no, tomato bastard. I would be the best."

An Asian man with short black hair raised his hand, saying, "Excuse me for saying this, but I believe that she should decide whom she wants to marry."

An albino rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Japan. You're still a virgin, what do you know about—"

A buff man with slick blond hair pounded his hand on the wall. "Everyone shut up!" he shouted. He sounded like the German accent that spoke earlier. "Japan is right. She needs to decide for herself who she would like to marry."

All eyes returned to Leah. She suddenly realized that sitting naked in a room full of obviously high men was not the smartest thing to do, but she had no idea what to do about it. Maybe she could kick them out of her room long enough to call the campus police, but she doubted these men would leave that easily. She looked at each of the face and saw that all of their eyes were sparkling with hope. She had to tell them that she couldn't marry them.

The alcohol coursing through her veins loosened her lips to the point where she blurted out first excuse that came to her head. "But I'm a lesbian!"

They all shrugged. "That really doesn't matter," said the sole American man. They all nodded in agreement.

"I have an idea." Italy looked away from her foot and gave the world a bright smile. "Why don't we take her home and all go on dates with her so that she can know more about us and then she can decide who she wants to marry!"

Every single male nodded and voiced their agreements. Leah looked between them, amazed. "But I'm a lesbian!" she exclaimed again.

"Doesn't matter." The German moved from his place at the door, scanning his cold eyes briskly around the room. "Now pack up. We're leaving at seven hundred hours."

Leah stared at him. "But I'm a lesbian!"

"I said pack up."

"No!"

That was not good enough. The men tried for the next hour to get her to pack up (or to at least put some clothing on), but she refused each time (Leah's hanged over sense of logic told her that since it was her room, she had all the right to remained unclothed). At last, the Russian man grew so impatient with her that he held a chloroform handkerchief forcefully over her mouth until she fell unconscious.

MW: I don't know why I wrote this now. I've had this idea in my head for a very long time now and for some reason I thought it would be a good idea to write it. Updates for this will be very short and very sporadic. Maybe I can finish this by the end of summer?

I hope you guys have all enjoyed and I hope this curbs you over until I get update one of my other fanfictions.

No Notes

Thank you for reading have a wonderful day!