Alright, here goes nothing. Welcome to my first Hetalia fanfic!
I have decided to start my writing for Hetalia with a series of FrUK one-shots. Each of these one-shots will be inspired by one of Panic! at the Disco's songs, and they will be based off of any variation of the FrUK pairing. So, I have cleverly named this series... FrUK! at the Disco!
Don't worry though, you'll still be able to understand the fic even if you've never heard the song.
Song: I Write Sins Not Tragedies
Pairing: England x fem France (human names)
Enjoy~!
Arthur Kirkland, dressed in his finest tuxedo, was nervously pacing back and forth in a corridor. Why was he nervous? Because today he was getting married. He was going to walk down the aisle and declared his undying love for his fiancé, Francine Bonnefoy.
Not that that was a problem. He loved Francine, he truly did, but he still had this sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that told him this was a bad idea.
That's ridiculous, Arthur told himself. You just need a change of scenery. That'll clear all those ridiculous thoughts right out of your head.
Arthur abruptly stopped pacing, which caused his head to spin. After taking a moment to recover from this head rush, the Englishman began to walk the halls of the church.
He was looking for a small quite room, perhaps some kind of garden outside of the church; however as he passed a doorway a snip-it of a conversation caught his attention.
"What a beautiful wedding."
Arthur froze. It wasn't right to eavesdrop, but maybe hearing other people compliment the wedding (his wedding) would make him feel better. After a brief moral struggle Arthur decide to inch closer to the door. He slowly peaked out to see a woman with light brown hair and green eyes- a bridesmaid by the looks of her dress. She was talking to a stuffy-looking, dark-haired waiter who was most likely a friend of hers.
"What a beautiful wedding."
"Yes, but it's truly a shame," the waiter said as he went about setting the tables.
"What's a shame?"
Yes, what she said. Arthur thought from his look out spot. He curiously peeked his head out a little further.
The waiter seemed slightly surprised by this. "You haven't heard?"
"Roderich, please just spit it out."
The man, Roderich, glanced around the room before leaning in and speaking in a hushed voice. "The groom's bride is a whore."
WHAT?!
"What?!" The woman brought a hand to her mouth. "That can't be possible! Francine wouldn't do that!"
Roderich gave a huff and crossed his arms. "Now really Elizabeta, you don't think I would make this kind of stuff up, do you? I can assure you that it is true. I don't know how the groom doesn't know it, but that Francine girl is a sex-crazed whore who will use any man she gets her hands on for pleasure and-"
"THAT'S ENOUGH!"
Both Roderich and Elizabeta gasped as Arthur stormed into the room. The angry Brit made his way to the waiter and gave the be-speckled man a hard shove.
"I will not have you spreading lies about my beloved Francine!"
The waiter quickly regained his balance and straightened out his clothes. "I take it you're the groom." Roderich was met with only a glare so he continued. "I understand you are upset, but there's really no reason to direct your anger at me. It's that whore of a wife you should be mad at."
"Roderich-!"
"Please Elizabeta, it's best he find out about it before he actually marries her."
"She is not a whore," Arthur growled.
"Well I happen to know that she is."
Arthur took a deep breath to calm himself. He couldn't just get upset; he had to get to the bottom of this.
"How do you know?" Arthur asked slowly, not wanting to sound angry. "Why are so sure about this?"
"Because she's slept with half the waiting staff."
"What do you mean 'half the waiting staff'?!"
"I mean Antonio, Romano, Gilbert, Feliciano-"
"And how in the bloody hell would you know that?!"
"Because all of them brag about it afterwards. Listen, the only way you'll know for sure is if you go ask her yourself."
Arthur glared at Roderich a moment longer before turning on his heels and marching off.
There was a beat of silence before Elizabeta spoke again.
"Did you really have to tell him that, Roderich?"
The man shrugged. "All I did was tell him facts."
"You may have just ruined their wedding."
"Please," Roderich huffed, "I just saved their wedding."
Arthur was in front of the bride's suite and was about to knock when he heard a giggle. One he knew very well. It was Francine's flirty giggle. The same one she had used oh so many times on their first dates. But why would she be doing that now? Overcome by curiosity, Arthur held his breath and put his ear to the door.
"Oh oui? You have everything prepared for my little visit?" The voice was muffled yet echoey because of the door, but it was without a doubt Francine.
"Oh la la! On vas s'amuser ce soir~! ...Qu'est-ce?* Why don't I come over now? Well... I have a thing, but I promise I will come by tonight. Oui, oui... Bien sur. D'accord. Je t'aime est je t'adore. À ce soir!**"
*[We are going to have fun tonight~! ...What's that?]
**[Yes, yes... Of course. Alright. I love and adore you. See you tonight!]
Arthur's blood was boiling. He hadn't understood all of that but just from the tone of her voice he could tell. She was making plans with other men behind his back! Sleeping around! Cheating!
A rustle inside the room drew his attention and pulled him away for his increasingly bitter thoughts.
"I suppose I should get ready," Francine said. Arthur heard footsteps followed by the sound of hangers clinking together and a dress rustling as it was taken down. "The sooner I get married to Arthur, the sooner I can go home with Matthew!"
No...
Arthur felt his throat seize up and his knees buckle. He used the door to support himself as his world came crashing around him.
She doesn't care about me... She never cared about me.
How? How could he be so stupid? How could he fall in love with such a monster? How did he not see this coming? All this time he thought that he had fallen in love with a sweet, caring, beautiful Frenchwoman. How could he have been so far off?
No. No, maybe he was wrong. Maybe this was all a misunderstanding and he was making a huge assumption. He had to ask her directly.
Arthur took a deep breath, opened the door and stepped into the bride's suite.
He glanced around. Francine wasn't in the room but there was another door that most likely led to dressing room of sorts. She was probably in there.
Arthur didn't trust his voice enough to call out to her (he was still trying to steady his breathing) so he decided to wait for her... until he spotted her phone.
It was just sitting there. Surely Francine had nothing to hide if her phone was in plain view.
He snatched up the little phone, flipped it open and searched through her call history. His throat closed up again as he recognized the names Roderich had told him. Antonio, Romano, Gilbert and Feliciano; they were all there- along with dozens of other names. Ludwig, Ivan, Feliks, Vash, Heracles; the list went on and on.
But those are only calls. It doesn't mean a bloody thing, Arthur told himself.
He clicked on one of the names. A text conversation popped up and this time, Arthur couldn't deny the truth. The entire conversation was filled with vulgarity and innuendo. He checked the other contacts. More sexts. Francine had even sent pictures of herself to some of them (much to Arthur's relief, none of the men had sent pictures back).
Arthur calmly shut the phone and placed it back on the table. He wasn't angry. He wasn't sad either. He felt nothing as the last four years of his love life crumbled around him. All he wanted to do was get nice and drunk and forget that he had ever loved that disgusting slut.
Arthur quickly gulped down his fourth- fifth?- glass of champagne. It wasn't doing much to get him drunk but at least it was alcohol. He had stolen the bottle from the end of the bar on his way back to the groom's room. It wasn't what he had hoped for but it was the first alcoholic beverage he could find. The bubbly drink somewhat allowed him to drown his troubles away, at least until a knock at the door disturbed his peace.
"Whoever you are, I don't want to see your face!" Arthur snapped, pouring himself more champagne.
"Dude, I find that hard to believe. I know you always wanna see me." Arthur looked up as Alfred, his best friend and best man, let himself in.
"Whoa man, isn't it a little early to celebrate?" Alfred asked as he quickly strode over and took away the bottle. "Holy crap!" he said, noticing how light it was. "You drank like half the bottle, dude. Do you wanna walk down the aisle drunk or something?"
"I'm not going to walk down that damned aisle," Arthur said, reaching to take the bottle back from his friend.
"Wait," Alfred held the bottle up high and away from the Brit. "Why not?"
"Because that woman I supposed to married is a whore!"
"What?" As Alfred stood there stunned for a moment Arthur was able to snatch the bottle out of the taller man's hand and finish pouring himself a drink.
"Yes is true," Arthur sat back down and drank another gulp of champagne. He then told Alfred all about the waiter, the conversation he overheard between Francine and one of her many lovers and the horrifying proof he later found on her cell phone.
Alfred whistled. "Damn bro, that's rough. So what now?"
"The wedding's off," Arthur said simply.
"What do you mean 'off'?"
"I mean," the Brit poured the last of the champagne into his glass, "I'm not getting married. I'm going to finish this champagne and go home."
Alfred was quiet for a moment, which was rare. When he finally spoke again, his voice was serious. "No, you aren't going home Arthur."
"Then pray tell, Alfred, what am I going to do?"
A large grin spread across the American's face. "We are gonna get you dead drunk!" He let out a hearty laugh. "None of this prissy champagne stuff. Let's get to the nearest bar and get you some shots! You are gonna drink so much alcohol you won't even remember Francine's name! After the day you've had, you definitely deserve it. We could even go gambling! And to a club! You could get a lap dance, or maybe even get laid!"
Arthur chuckled. "I think I'll skip that last part, old chap," he said as he got up and stretched.
"The lap dance or the getting laid?"
"Both," Arthur laughed. He got up to get his coat. "Are you coming?" the British man asked as he put it on.
"Wait, where are we going?"
"Drinking, gambling and clubbing of course."
"You're serious?! That's AWESOME!" Alfred quickly grabbed his coat and headed out of the groom's suite with Arthur.
As they made their way out of the building, they passed the room where Arthur had overheard the conversation between the bridesmaid and the waiter.
"Hey, Alfred. Why don't you go get the car and bring it up front. I'll catch up with you in a minute." He tossed the keys to his friend and ran off before Alfred could respond.
Once in the room Arthur glanced around until he found the person he was looking for. He walked up to stuffy dark haired waiter.
"Excuse me, Roderich, was it?"
"Yes?" the waiter said, turning around. "Oh it's you. Mr. Groom-man. What do you want?"
"I just wanted to thank you."
Roderich gave a quizzical look. "Thank me? For what?" He noticed Arthur's coat. "Where are you going?"
"I'm going out. I wanted to thank you for saving my wedding before I left."
Roderich gave the slightest smile before turning back to his work.
Arthur walked back through the corridor and found the main exit. As he stepped out into the fresh air he couldn't help but smile. He was in control. He was no longer being manipulated by Francine. He was naive to have believed in love at first sight, but that didn't matter anymore. Alfred pulled up and Arthur got in the car. For the first time in four years, Arthur spent the rest of the night partying with good friends instead of waiting faithfully at home for a terrible girlfriend.
And it felt great.
And there's the first one-shot in the FrUK! at the Disco series! If there's a song you want me to do a one-shot on, please PM me or review to let me know! I'll be posting each story individually, so check in often!
Thanks for reading!
Dani~