Hey guys! Sorry I haven't uploaded anything! I have been writing just not as much as I should. This makes up for it right? The ending is crap and kind of rushed.

Amelia is trying to prove to her brother Alfred that she is independant. What happens when she gets harrassed by a certain drunk Frenchman at a club? A certain punk blonde comes to her rescue!

Disclaimer: I own an America keychain! Does that count as owning Hetalia?


I didn't belong here. Every other teen standing in line had tattoos, piercings, or a mix of the two adorning their bodies. The guy standing in front of me had a snake swirling around his bloodshot eyes in unnatural shades of violet and blue. His girlfriend (if she was even a girl) had a spiky neon pink Mohawk and piercings covering her face.

I stood out like a sore thumb with my natural curls and unblemished skin. Instead of the baggy clothes that everyone else wore, I had on a cute pair of denim shorts and my white button down was tied above my bellybutton. Instead of my usual cowgirl boots I wore a pair of cute sneakers that I had borrowed from Elizaveta. I was thankful for the bomber jacket that my brother had lent me when a strong breeze blew my bare legs and face. I shivered.

"Are you cold?" a boy asked. His accent sounded French, and I could smell liquor on him and his two friends. He was practically leaning on me.

"I'm fine," I replied turning around. His friends chuckled behind him. The line moved up, and I flashed my ID at the robust guy in front of me. His white hair was hanging in his face, his lavender eyes glancing at my ID.

"Go ahead. Have fun time, da?" His smile was innocent which instantly made my skin crawl. I smiled back and walked inside. The lighting was dim and the place was crowded with too many people. At least three people stepped on my foot in the first minute.

I pushed past people not even saying "excuse me" like I would have normally. I had to prove to my brother that I didn't need his help and that I wasn't a goody-two-shoe. I made it to the stage. It was the only thing really illuminated in the place with flickering lights overhead. There was a band onstage. I recognized all of them. They went to my school.

"Look who it is," the bassist called. Two very drunk guys stumbled onto the stage. The Spanish boy went to the drums and the German to the guitar. The bassist was an Italian in my art class. He had dark auburn hair parted to the right with a long curl. He rolled his hazel eyes at his band mates and went back to what he was doing.

"Shut up, Lovi," the Spanish boy slurred. His green eyes were glazed over, a drunken cloud completely covering them. His brown curls were tousled.

"Yea, Lovino. Shut up," the German exclaimed. His contacts were the color of blood, and his hair was so light it looked silver. His eyes were clouded like his companion's. I didn't know how Elizaveta could stand dating him. Another Italian boy ran up on stage. He was Lovino's little brother Feliciano. He grabbed the microphone. He had an acoustic guitar in his hands.

"I have a special song for my boyfriend Ludwig!" he exclaimed. He must have been drunk for he was swaying, and his cheeks were flushed. He started to sing. "Germany, Germany, Germany is a really really nice place. Even though I'm his prisoner he gives me food. And it doesn't suck like English food."

"Get off the stage!" someone in the crowd yelled. I could see Ludwig struggling to get to the stage. His hair was ruffled.

"Feliciano, get down!" he hollered. Feliciano complied. He jumped off the stage and ran up to Ludwig, giving him a giant hug.

"Where's Francis?" Lovino asked. I had been wondering the same thing. I never trusted the Frenchman after he cheated on my baby sister with Angelique.

"He went searching for some girl or something." I didn't know he meant me until someone grabbed my wrist. It was Francis.

"Come on, mi amour. You know you love me. There's been rumors going around that you like a blonde at our school in a band. Seeing that I'm the best looking in the school, I'm blonde, and I'm in a band it was obviously me," he slurred. I yanked my hand away. My cheeks were blazing. I didn't like him. I liked his friend. I couldn't believe that word got out about my crush.

"It's not you!" I exclaimed. He smirked and grabbed my wrist again.

"You were jealous that I was with your sister weren't you? That's why you wanted us to break up."

"You were cheating on her!"

"Whatever." He had his arms around my waist. I was struggling, but it did nothing.

"Is there a problem here?" a boy with a British accent asked. My heart stopped. Why him?

"She loves me!"

"Yes, I can see that." I pushed Francis one more time. This time he fell on the ground. I fixed my outfit not wanting to look at my savior.

"Are you OK?" he asked. I looked up. His impossibly green eyes showed concern. His blonde hair looked like it was dipped in acid at the tips the color was so unnatural. His punk clothes made the look.

"I'm fine, Arthur," I replied.

"Do you like him?" He shuffled a little.

"God no."

"OK." He looked relieved. He wouldn't meet my eyes.

"Arthur?"

"Yes, Amelia?" His eyes looked hopeful.

"Could you keep this secret? I'm trying to prove to Alfred that I can take care of myself."

"Sure. If you promise to go on a date with me." He smirked. My blush deepened to an even darker crimson.

"Uh um." I looked at my feet. He lifted my chin up and brushed his lips against mine. It was sweet.

"Do we have a deal?" he breathed.

"Yes," I murmured. He kissed me again. Who knew bad boys could be so sweet?


Yay! You can now review and tell me how much you love Punk!Iggy! Too bad he's mine!