Uchiha Sasuke-kun: Hello loyal readers. I know i've been a terrible Authoress...I haven't updated or published anything new for a LONG LONG LONG LONG LONG LONG time...please forgive me!
America: OMG! I'm a girl now! WOO HOO! Free burgers if I flirt with the guy at the Burger Joint! -victory dance-
England: -smacks upside the head- Shut it, you wanker! You've got no standards, do you?
The Rest of Hetalia Cast: -stares intently, watching England hit a woman-
Uchiha Sasuke-kun: -tuts- Now, now, Iggy...That's no way to treat a lady!
England: -stutters- B-b-but...he's not a real...
America: -grins- You heard the woman! I'm a lady, and that means you gotta be nice t'me!
England: -growls and glares at the Authoress- I really hate you, you bloody kraut-burger...
Uchiha Sasuke-kun: -flames in anger- VAT DIDJU CALL ME, TEABAG DUMMERKOPF?
France: -laughs- Haha! She called you a TEABAG! You drink tea, so... -dies laughing-
America: -laughs, looking cute as a girl- Hey, Iggy...I think you should apologize to the nice Authoress by doing the disclaimer!
England: -glares- BUG OFF!
-strange lightning hits, narrowly missing him-
England: O_O... Uchiha Sasuke-kun owns NOTHING! -eeps- Axis Powers Hetalia is owned by Himaruya Hidekaz... -eyes authoress warily-
Germany: -wanders in- Have you guys seen mein wurst und kraut? I saved it for lunch but... -pales as he sees me eating it- NEVER MIND!
Whole Cast: O.O Why are YOU scared of her, Germany-san?
Germany: -pales as i glare at him- I may be German, but she's a German frau...WOMAN! She has PMS that makes WWII look like...well, a game of plastic guns und children!
Whole Cast: -slowly backs away-
HETALIA: SHIVER ME TIMBERS, ENGLAND!
A.K.A.
PIRATES OF THE CARRIBBEAN, MY ASS! AND LUFFY IS NOT KING OF THE PIRATES! I AM, YOU GIT! (I also do not own One Piece OR Disney's Pirates. plz don't sue!)
ONE-SHOT:
"Stupid, bloody nations with their stupid bloody party, and their stupid bloody costumes!"
Arthur Kirkland was furious. He had to go to a bloody christmas masquerade in a half an hour, and his occult books and robes were nowhere to be found!
"How in the bloody hell could this happen! They were here yesterday before the World Meeting...Where could they have gone? Francis couldn't have stolen them, could he? Bloody wanker..." he continued to curse and rant as he ripped his elegant room apart, trying to find his robes and dark-magic attire. "WHERE IN THE BLOODY HELL ARE MY THINGS?" he growled in aggravation.
Looking at the clock, he groaned. Now he had only ten minutes before the party began, and a gentleman was never late...but it was a costume party...Dammit, there was no way in all of hell and damnation he was going to look like a plonker in front of that stupid, frog-faced idiot!
Stomping up into the attic, he threw a box of things to the ground to open a trunk he'd been keeping for some time. It was of a time he could barely remember anymore...a time when he was free.
When he was a pirate.
Throwing open the trunk, he dug out the old waistcoat and cutlass, pausing for a moment as he saw them. My god, he hadn't seen these for ages...Good gracious, it HAD been a long time! No minding that now, though...
Tossing the old clothes on, he was glad they still fit (It wasn't like he gained wait any, considering his cooking). Looking at himself in the full-length mirror, he sighed, for a moment remembering who he once was. He was the lord of the seas...the prince of the sails, and the emperor of the waters...he was the KING of the pirates.
He scoffed at the thought, America's stupid attempt at the Pirates movies from that damnable Hollywood of hers.
He had to smirk. HE was the greatest captain...the bravest bucaneer. Though perhaps if Emily had seen a REAL pirate, she'd have something better to write about in her movies. Though if she'd seen him so strong, perhaps she wouldn't have... NO! he couldn't bother himself with those cursed thoughts again! He didn't miss her when she left. No...he didn't, dammit! It wasn't as if he spent every damn night crying into his pillow because he lost his little girl! Of course not! Why would he keep her old belongings just to go into her old room and stare at them for two hours every evening?He didn't cry and cry and cry over the letter she'd sent him, declaring her independence? NO! Never! He didn't spend every July 4th writing morbid poetry about how miserable life was and how unfair...Not for her! He just hated the bane of summer heat, is all...yea, that's right. It was the heat he hated...not the fact that his life came crashing down to pieces on that day...the day his little Emily betrayed him and chose independence over staying with him. It wasn't as if he loved her or anything...never...
(Author's Note: Can you spell T-S-U-N-D-E-R-E? lolz)
Heading over to America's place for the party, he stood upright as usual, and gave a bit of an odd look to Gilbert who was going on and on about how awesome he was. Strangely, he wasn't wearing a costume. He was in some punk-clothes, and some skateboarder shoes with a scarf. His younger brother, Ludwig was dressed in a...wait a minute...he was dressed as Link, fom Legend of Zelda? WTF?
Walking up to him, he tapped Gilbert on the shoulder.
"Yea? Someone wants to talk to the King of Awesome? That's me...what'cha need, homie?" he said, sticking a thumb to his chest.
Arthur felt the sudden need to face-palm.
"Why is...Germany-san dressed as..." he faltered, motioning to the costume, not knowing quite what to say about it. "...THAT?"
Gilbert snickered.
"Oh, THAT! Italy-chan begged him to go as Link because she wanted to go as Princess Zelda from the game Japan-chan showed her a month ago. She insisted he go as Link, so she could have her 'Doitsu' save her from 'Ganondorf' over there." Gilbert pointed over to Romano, who was glaring at the German man for 'stealing' his baby sister away. Indeed, he had the Ganon costume and all, wouldn'tcha know it.
Arthur sweatdropped. "Remind me to stay away from them if they get into a fight over the 'princess'." he scoffed, looking over to where America was standing near her large christmas tree in a beautiful cream-colored victorian gown made of satin, with burgundy satin Roses and bows, with matching-colored lace. Her hair was a bit longer than in the past few years, and it was styled in french curls that were quite becoming of her beauty. It was only too bad, the phrase had that nasty frog-eater word in it...What, he wasn't staring at her or anything! He was...staring at the christmas tree. Yea, the tree...the one that was insanely large and had unusually sparkly decorations on it that could blind someone if their not careful. DAMMIT, HE WAS STARING AT THE TREEEEEEE!
(A/N: There's that TSUNDERE thing again...poor England's in major denial *sigh*)
While scanning for other guests, he noticed Russia was in an eerily good mood and he was dressed like a giant sunflower...ok, that was just creepy...
Midway through the evening, Emily strode up to him with her trademark heroine smile.
"Hey Iggy, what's up? Merry Christmas'n'junk!" she gave a thumbs up.
Rolling his eyes, he ignored her greeting.
Giving a pout at this, the American girl pinched his arm.
"Hey, old man! That's right, I'm talkin' t'you!" she growled, pinching him again. "At least acknowledge I'm here, why don'tcha?" she whined.
Arthur felt a tic form in his jaw as he turned around.
"Fine. Merry bloody Christmas and wankin' New Year!" he said, sipping at his spided cider. "Bloody hell, you're getting as irritating as that brat-kun." he rolled his eyes at the mention of the not-yet nation. (hint hint: you know who it is!)
Her frown didn't subside as she grabbed his cup of cider from him and tossed it aside, still full, I might add, where it landed on poor Latvia.
Arthur stood, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Did she just...?
Then, something in him snapped.
"That bloody fuckin' IT!" he roared, grabbing her wrist and twisting it behind her. "Emily, you just pissed off the wrong fucking pirate!" he snarled through gritted teeth.
Taken off guard, she was floored by his sudden aggression. He had cursed at her before, and fought with her, but he'd never had this much fire in his eyes. Tears, definitely...but never a fiery inferno. Though she could tell it wasn't all of hate or anger. "I-I-Igg-gy...wh-what's going on?" she asked nervously, her pulse quickening with that heated stare aimed at her.
Arthur's grip tightened on her wrist and he held her other up in between them. "Who held your hand when you begged me to take you horseback-riding? Who's hand held yours when you were scared or tired? Who's hand dried your tears, dammit?" he snapped. "You reward me with what...insults and degradations?"
As his grip on her tightened, she actually felt a bit of fear. Her Iggy had NEVER acted like this before. Swallowing hard, she fought the urge to look away. For the first time in well-over two centuries, she felt like a child being scolded.
And for once, America couldn't think of a single thing to say.
Arthur felt the rush of power go through him as he saw what he used to when Emily was a chibi-nation. Whether it was fear, or shame, or regret, or something else entirely, he felt respected again. She stayed silent, as if waiting for the rest of the scolding...Respect. It was a high that was dangerously addictive in the nation-tan world.
But for once he was going to enjoy it...
"And furthermore, YOUNG LADY!" he growled. "I've been a nation for god-knows longer than you've been around!" he said, tugging her to him. "When I had my freedom, it was TRUE freedom." he said lowly. "France says that I was a delinquent, but NO! I was KING of the world, Miss 'I'm the Hero!'..." he continued. "I sailed across oceans and seas bigger than your EGO! And when I saw something I wanted, I TOOK IT! No questions asked, and no politics involved. Back then, I was a conqueror. I was free..." he said, slowing a bit, his grip on her tightening.
Emily was without words...nothing came to her mind. Not even sarcasm or humor, or even hot dogs and baseball! She had never seen Iggy like this. That passion burning in his gaze. That feeling.
"So I don't want to hear another word about me being an 'old man' or a 'crusty geezer' or 'a delinquent' or 'punk'!" he said threateningly. "Or I'll show you how a REAL pirate treats the world...Not some stupid Hollywood half-wits." he glared. Though something else sparked within him. Something strange. He felt as though he ruled the world again...and the pirate in him roared in triumph, his sights set on gaining his 'treasure' back. In his hayday, he had been a conqueror. He saw what he wanted, and he just TOOK it...and that included women as well.
Emily looked up at him with something she hadn't felt for him in a LONG time! Respect.
"Y-Y-Yes, sir..." she stammered, shocking both Arthur, AND herself!
Arthur smirked, the wild-man inside him refusing to calm.
"Good. Now go to your room." he commanded in a tone that said 'Dont-mess-with-me'. True, she was hosting the party, but he had some 'business' to take care of with the arrogant, North-American Nation.
Surprisingly, she obeyed. Reluctantly, mind you, but the cutlass at his side (which was totally functional, by the way), and the heated wickedness in his stare...she wasn't going to test the waters with both feet. Not again. She'd made THAT mistake with the Titanic...
A half an hour later, she pouted, still sitting in her bedroom, glaring at the door.
"Dammit! When is he gonna get in here? I have a party to host!" she complained loudly, as usual.
She heard a voice behind her. That same powerful, commanding voice that she had yielded to earlier. The voice that sent chills up her spine. And not all BAD chills, either, if her blush was any indication.
"Ladies should not use such language." it said, though the gentleman in him was no where to be found.
Arthur stepped out from behind a curtain, and stood before her with a sense of authority that was almost overpowering her to the point where she fell over. But those fiery green eyes bored into her like back when she spilled his tea tin of Earl Grey, and tried to replace it with coffee. She resisted the urge to pull back from his gaze. Just barely.
He tapped his foot.
"Emily, you're a young lady, and you WILL behave!" he said cockily, the American girl's reaction being to open her mouth to protest, but he beat her to her statement.
"If you even think about uttering that you are 'not a lady', then keep this in mind when you do. In my day, women were either ladies, or sluts, and we had no problem taking the latter by force if it came upon us to do so." he smirked. "So what were you going to say?" he asked expectantly, holding a hand cupped to his ear.
She gulped audibly. "I'm a lady, you're right I shouldn't cuss!" she blurted, nervous for once. Her heart was pounding, and she had trouble breathing. But not solely out of fear...this was actually...turning her on.
He smirked sexily, those impish green orbs dancing along her body to rest on the rosy flush on her upper chest.
"But you did...so you must be punished." he said, Emily going pale.
Grabbing her in a flash, he yanked her to him by her waist, his lips smashing upon hers in a heated fervor. Their lips danced for what seemed like millenia, when they had to break for air.
Panting, Emily had already forgotten anything that had been in her mind before the kiss. He captured her lips again before starting to unzip her dress-fastening in the back. She nearly swooned in his arms.
"B-but Arthur...what about the guests? I'm the h-h-host!" she stammered, knowing there was no excuse good enough for him right now.
He shoved her back on the bed, her clothed, warm body soon pinned to the mattress by his own boy weight. Then, before she could blink, his hands came up to forcibly hold her wrists to the cushions beneath them. His lips were but inches from hers, and his breath was ragged...before a wicked grin appeared on his lips.
"The guests can wait."
END (maybe continued someday if someone requests an extended lemon scene)