My absence shall be explained at the bottom! TEEHEE! wait, guy's where's the bar seperator thing! OMG PLEASE TELL ME!
"The Fairest of them All" Part 1
"Have you ever thought which Disney Princess you are the most?" Liz's question was so out of the blue that her table mates stared at her for a while before she groaned exasperatedly and repeated the question.
"Which Disney Princess are you?" She queried a little louder.
"Beats me, as if I'd ever have the time to think about those silly things." Irinya giggles in self-imposed embarrassment and...whatever strange feeling that kept her giggling on.
"I don't know, maybe Mulan?" Mei shrugged her shoulders. "I'm kinda Chinese, so why not?" The Taiwanese girl took her long fork and played with her flan.
"Same. Maybe Esmarelda—even though she isn't technically official." The Hungarian cooed flatly, inconspicuously taking a look at the other table where Gilbert was talking about mushy-gushy stuff with Toni while Francis and Arthur bickered. They'll probably have sex in the closet again so she'll get to have her fun in a while.
"You don't have to restrict yourself though." Michelle patted her friend's subtle back. "I mean, I'm black but I think I'm more of a Belle. Adventurous but aloof." She daydreams before fluttering her eyes and chuckling. "But that's just me."
"What about you Kiku?" Feliks casually asked while texting. He was on the adjacent table with Tino, Toris, Eduard, and the Japanese man.
"I'd totally be Cinderella." The Estonian interjected before Kiku could even compose himself to answer. This is why Eduard was really annoying, you'd expect him to be just a tad bit less aggravating but it just turns out that he is that aggravating times three.
"No one like asked you." Feliks glared before resting her face on his hands with a smile, "now who is it, Kiku?"
"I do not think that it is an appropriate question for a man to answer." He blushed and answered quietly.
"That is highly...traditional of you." Tino leaned a little closer, sucker-facing while thinking of more to say. "Besides, there shouldn't be anything embarrassing about it."
The Hungarian overheard everything and her head pops up like a small lightbulb had just been turned on. A grin stretches her lips all the way up to her cheeks.
Snow White
Ivan found the weather quite nice today. The sun was just right and the park was definitely lush and green. Why it was no wonder he chose today of all days to go out for a picnic.
Yup, the sun was as bright as his yellow board shorts. He wore a comfy grey tank top, acid washed, and a light blue and white plaid shirt. His mousy ash hair crowned beneath his red bonnet or what Mattie called a tuque...and what Al called a beanie...and what some called a knit cap. Whatever it was called, it made the Russian feel spiffy as he skipped around for the perfect spot.
He looped the longer leg of his scarf carelessly around his neck when he found the perfect spot with the most beautiful view of the pond.
Ivan carefully lies down his picnic blanket and his basket. He pulls out an apple and was about to bite when the bush behind him suddenly rustled.
"Who's there?" He asks curiously. When nothing replied, the man dismissed it completely. Why would he care if it would interfere with his picnic?
"Oh hello, animal friends." Van placed his attention instead to the rabbits and squirrels suddenly surrounding him. Animals were weird and cute...and so flopping random.
He sings a small scale and the birds suddenly swarm to his call. A small blue one perched on his large finger.
"You all must be so hungry!" The birds chirp and the bunnies wiggle their little noses. A small family of deer suddenly made their way to the public and open area filled with astonished and weary people.
"I'm pretty sure I've packed enough food for all of you..." He rummages his basket, "and then some!" He briskly throws a catch-up. He had fresh celery and greens, a whole loaf of bread, and some bird feed—since he was planning on feeding the pigeons later.
"Here you go, my friends." Russia just lays the food orderly for all of the critters to enjoy. He just watches for a while, content in petting their soft, huggable forms before going back to his fruit.
Russia opens his mouth to take a bite off his perfectly ripe, crunchy, tangy apple when whatever-it-was fell out of the bushes.
Van blinks before he giggles, sounding like some sort of princess who had seven dwarves for friends. "Oh, Mattie! To what do I owe the pleasure of meeting you?"
"Why do you sound weird, eh?" Matthew asks while dusting off the leaves from his red henley shirt with blue sleeves.
"Now, I can't say I know what you mean, friend." The bigger man just giggles. "I'm merely enjoying the beautiful day."
"Still weird." The Canadian grumbles but seats really close to his best friend. He coughs, "so—uh—nice day, isn't it?" There was an embarrassing quiver in his voice.
"Da, much like what I had said." The Russian nods, sinking his teeth onto the hard flesh of the fruit before he stops and stares at the man beside him.
Canada was peeling his shirt off his godly body, modestly—regretfully so, like it would've been better with him grinding up and down a pole while throwing dirty looks and eating a banana—hugged tightly by a white undershirt. Damn, he had really nice guns plus there was great artistry in his wood art tattoo spanning his right arm till the elbow. It was like the elk and the fishes come to life while running and swimming with the beautiful swirl-patterned wood pertained in his skin.
What crazy shit Van would do that fucking man. He'd totally go all wild and dirty and kinky on him until they were so disgusting that they'd have to read the bible for all eternity in the Vatican to wash off some of the grime.
Da, I'm so hot for you...Russia's eyes were rather glazed with very sinful thoughts that would probably cripple him to pray throughout the weekend.
"Are you alright?" He asks while casually running his fingers through his hair. Ivan's teeth come up, crunching a piece of apple in his mouth and before he could even nod, he suddenly swallows and chokes on it.
Van clasps his hands on his throat and falls to his back, kicking and wheezing. Fucking apple, shitting with his cutesy act and fuck. Once he spits this out, he is definitely gonna punch that apple to the ground. That is, if he could spit it out first.
"Fuck." Mattie curses and helps his stupid best friend to his haunches before making his way behind the choking heap of man and doing the Heimlich.
It took like five heaves before the large chunk flew out with a weird hurling sound from Van who choked a lot afterwards, passing the color pink to deep red all the while the Canadian rubbed his back. If he knew that this was what it took to get Mattie this close, he would've done it more...of course, it would be all fake but it would still be totally be convincing.
The Canadian sighed, just happy that the crazy Ivan was fine and dandy. He smiles lop-sided and pushes his knuckles softly on the other's cheek.
"That's what you get for talking funny." He scoffs, laughing a little as well.
Vanya pouts before getting the bright idea to flick his friend's nose...hard.
"What the hell, eh?" Mattie pushes the other away as he kneads his nose with his palm.
"And that's what you get for getting gwumpy!" The big Russian puffed his chest and rested his hands on either of his hips.
They ended up smiling at each other for some time before quietly continuing the picnic, the fact that Matthew was there stalking Ivan completely evaded their thoughts as they sipped on iced tea and ate some sandwiches Ivan made.
Cinderella
Scrubbing the floor, ja, Germany was scrubbing the floor. He had no intention of stopping until the black and white checkered marble tiles were so clean he could see his face, sweaty and determined, clearly.
The scratching of claws and the panting of his dogs became louder and before they could cuddle up to him, he halts them with extending his gloved hands.
"NEIN." He says sternly before bringing out his palm and gesturing for the floor conditioner he asked blitz, the Doberman, to bring.
"Danke." He sighed while petting blitz. The German got back to the spot and and applied just a few drops before going back to scrubbing.
Just a little bit more, he thinks determinedly. His place eyes staring so intently that it could've left a scorch mark. The scrubbing intensifies, quickens, then it just stops.
Ludwig sits up and sighs, eyes looking up the wooden stirring wheel, which was fixed with glass lights dangling, from the ceiling. He returns on all fours, getting a dry towel and firmly wiping the floor until it was dry.
Germany sighs again, blowing a wet strand of hair away from his face. His hair was gel-less today, so it was a little puffy and moppy, tousled casually on the top and trimmed short but not close-to-bald on the sides.
Wet tongues press his cheeks and hungry whimpers remind him of the time. He laughs and stands up with the bucket in hand.
"I still have to do the bathroom and get the laundry...besides, it's not lunch time yet." Ludwig smiles and goes up stairs, the three dogs very much close behind, still whimpering.
"Oh no, you can't fool me." He adds on his way to the bathroom. Opening the lights of the anteroom, he places the bucket on the sink and goes to work polishing the round mirror.
His sky-colored tank top was obviously wet with sweat from about an hour or so of cleaning the floor even when it was underneath his black apron.
The golden retriever barks twice.
"No, I do like cleaning." Ludwig answers his dogs with mediocre. "But sometimes, I wonder if there were...more efficient ways to go about it." He gives a pondering pucker at his dogs before getting another towel to wipe the sink itself.
The dachshund growls.
"Fine," Germany rolls his eyes, "I wish there was a funner way to clean." He just lets a fleeting scale of laughter slip out of his lips.
"But at the very, very least..." He rushes his circling movements. "I. Am. Done." He throws the rag back to the bucket.
"For the day." He adds with his loud pant.
Germany goes down the spiral stairs one more time. He went out to the backyard patio, looking at the lush rural scenery—green, reds, and yellows, all standing out yet still complimenting each other perfectly, with just a few more weeks and snow would start—before dumping the waste water into a small treatment vessel. He better start with his Christmas shopping.
A strong breeze suddenly reminded him of how sweaty he actually was. Ludwig shivers, wrapping his arms around himself as he brays from the cold, and goes inside.
Closing the sliding door, he thought the best way to get rid of the shiver sis with some hot cocoa.
"I see someone had fun cleaning without me." Netherlands was leaning on the walk-in doorway. His tan coat on with snug jeans and biker boots. His scarf was loose around his neck, showing enough of the low neckline of his blotched, maroon shirt.
"Oh, I assure you, it was so much fun indeed." Ludwig joked, getting some milk on the deep pan and some of Lars' Cocoa powder. "I was sad that you couldn't partake." He gave a teasing grin.
"Well, I'm here now," came the dutch's strong arms around his lover's equally strong chest. Lips trailed down the German's nape. "You better change first though. Get those awful shoes off of you."
Ludwig defends his slip-on closed shoes. "Hey, they are very nice for cleaning."
"I meant for comfort, Mr. Sensitive." Lars snorts before letting go of the younger man and going out of the kitchen for but a short minute.
"Sit down. The milk's not gonna boil that quick." He drags Ludwig by his wrist and guides him to the dining chair.
"Getting kinky, are we?" Germany smiles, biting his bottom lip in a little anticipation, while the Dutchman removed his closed-toes.
"Oh...I'd snuggle your ridiculous shoes all night." Netherlands wiggles his brows and flashes his teeth wantonly as he tries to pull off the last shoe. He was almost knocked off when it finally came out.
"And now...to see whether this fits." Lars pulls out his own fuzzy bunny slippers and makes a big fuss about slipping his Luddy's foot into the soft footwear. He never breaks his eyes away from the german who was bracing his laughter.
"There, the perfect fit." His smile turned killer, seductive, like he was about to ravage the german yet again.
"My Prince Charming." Ludwig just throws it out sarcastically before pulling Lars up to his lips.
Aurora
Norway hadn't shaved for a week and his hair was a complete mess. He was completely topless with his vastly built back facing the ceiling while his pale and dirty face was buried in his alcohol-reeking pillow.
Even with the large fluffy headrest, his snores were still loud enough to be heard across the hall outside his room. They even sounded scary, like a bear was choking on a whole boar or something.
First of all, Lu felt like growing his beard out...for Halloween, since he was going as a viking. Second of all, he was a fucking hot viking in deed. Third of all, he had been partying for like three nights in a row while Nat was busy, being the choreographer of a ballet production of the Mask of the Red Death, a production which he had watched multiple times on its opening week.
She was still far from his reach, Lu's really really missing her now, especially with the worst hangover he has ever experienced to date. He just wanted to cuddle her and whimper all day long but...all those thoughts were but a nice dream in his drop-dead sleep.
"Could you please shut up!"Iceland barges the door open and shouts. His Levi costume was still pretty much on and his lips obviously said that he had been rummaging his bag of candy the whole night. Guess who was his chaperone? His responsible brother Lukas, of course.
The Norwegian stops snoring entirely, doesn't make the slightest move even.
"Finally." A proud smile actually lifts from Emil's exhausted, worn-down facade. He stared smugly, snickering for a few seconds, until he started to feel worried with the lack of movements and sounds.
He ain't dead for sure. We're countries. He's just a stupid big brother is all. Emil just reassures himself because...the fact that Lukas was in fact dead is a near impossibility. Right?
"L-Lukas?" He drops his arms and cautiously makes his way to the sleeping man. Iceland dares to put his hand on the defined section nestled between the ridge of Lu's back and his shoulder blade.
"Big...big brother, are you o—"
A loud snore almost shook the room and every single worry was suddenly gone. Norway was back to...life, well probably, sounding far worse that being forced to put one's ear near a tractor engine. Emil's blank face turned right back to anger before he huffed his way out of the room.
"You're so stupid!" He shouts then slams the door close again.
Moments passed and the sun was high up in the clouds. Lukas was nowhere near waking up and his dear young brother had just about enough so he called on somebody who might just be able to help him.
"Oi, it's three in the afternoon. Wake up, bror!" Berwald's bass voice was so low it was probably unheard with the higher pitch of his older brother's snore...not to mention its volume.
He was standing outside the door. The Swede was just staring, unsurprised and unwilling to help. This was Lukas after all. Frankly, the thing that probably tied each Nordic together was their inherent stubbornness. Pair that with the Norwegian's shrewd demeanor and liquid fire and you've got yourself an unwavering lump of man that'll probably sleep through the apocalypse.
Wald raises the pillow he got from the living room. He throws it hard in a perfectly straight line to Lu's head, making a loud cracking and smashing sound, but does nothing to wake up the man.
"Wake up!" The swede says a little louder, squirting Lukas with his water pistol. He gets a second water gun filled with ice water and even throws the a whole bucket of cold water over his brother's head.
Nothing—well except for the gargling sounds of him snoring in water.
Sweden grabs a fistful of hair and pulls the head up, slacked jaw and utterly grotesque looking with sunken, mark circles around the eyes and drool so copious it's probably considered slobber by now.
He bangs it against the headboard and just gets the same, loud reply. Wald sighs and places Lu's face back into the pillow. "I tried."
"You most certainly did not!" Emil interjects.
"I slammed his head onto the headboard." The older representative gestured to the sleeping, wet man.
"What more do you want?" He wipes his hand down his face. His brows were knitted, eyes sharpened, and nose snarled.
"I don't...I don't know..." Iceland looked away and sniffled.
Sweden's expression melts from guilt. He didn't mean to shout at Emil...but he did mean to crash Lu's head onto treated yule wood. No, never Emil, his little prank buddy and...admittedly his favorite after big brother.
"Hey, come on." He nudges a knuckle on the young boy's arm. "You don't have to cry about it..." Berwald sides his eyes with an uncomfortable blush creeping.
"Wanna go out for some cinnamon buns?" He invited simply.
"Only if you don't do Nicki Minaj." Iceland sighed and a small smile got a big, toothy one from his older brother.
That night, Berwald had invited Emil to sleep over with him, Jett, Peter, and Ethel. The two kids were absolutely thrilled to see their young uncle again. Jett was just happy that someone could help him cook tonight since his Swedish lover was absolutely clueless unless it came to sweet, sticky buns.
"Uh-huh. I see him." Natalia said on her phone while peering inside the his boyfriend's room. She wore a parka and some leather skinnies. Her hair was long and straight with a beret on top of her head.
"Thanks, Emil." She closes her phone and walks in.
The girl seats beside her man and slowly rubs up his ticklish sides. Lu whimpers and turns around with a pressed smile and closed eyes.
Belarus dives in for a kiss and instantly muscular arms wrap around her and pull her closer to Norway's body.
Lukas pulls away and smiles, eyes perfectly blue and wide awake. "Missed you a lot."
"Same here, sleeping beauty." Nat sighs, nuzzling on top of the Norwegian's messy hair.
Ariel
Denmark loves the sea. He's always had a connection with it. Sure, he had the powers of ice and snow and he was definitely the King of the Cold being impervious to even the harshest hailstorms and blizzards but he feels very stiff in the cold.
In the deep blue, however, he feels less constricted, less burdened by the powers he has. It's also not bad to note that his mother was in-tune with the sea as well.
Besides, the water was warm in the tropics and if there was ice coursing through your veins, being a little warm feels really, really pleasant.
So, here he was, his god-like body bare, tattoos, hair and all, save for his black swimming boxers in crystal-blue waters roughly a mile or so away from shore. Did he rent a boat?
"Nej." He sighs as he floats on his back like an otter with his hands on the back of his head then he submerges headfirst gracefully like the said animal. He swam on his own from the shore all the way to the reef.
He's always been great in the water, better than when he was on land even. Although, he should attribute his swimming skills to some...hereditary stuff.
Matthias scoops himself deeper, closer to the beautiful reef. His torso and legs waves as though his legs were but one huge fish tail. His eyes glow strongly in strong blue and green, so does his hands, neck, and ribs.
Matthias swims, three deep slits on both sides of his neck open and close, as he passes the numerous colorful fishes that were very curious of him or at least, by the way they did not hide from him, unafraid of him.
He stops, floating vertically, the gills along his ribs pumping his chest with oxygen. His incandescent eyes got caught by something, something gleaming like gold. The Dane propelled himself carefully towards a small cave nestled in the fan corals.
Denmark extends his webbed hands, a bright glow pulsating. The mysterious item was nothing but a golden fork.
He snickers, clouds of bubbles getting pushed out of his gills, but grabs it anyway. Mat pulls out his small bag from his pockets and puts the antique in it for dating later.
Matthias flips to his back, his necklaces float around his neck like the rings of Saturn, and lets the currents move him around as he admires how the sun shines from where he was under the sea.
The clear blue waters. The fishes. The salty sea air. The adventure. Everything was his idea of an idyllic vacation.
He flip-turns back and continues to explore, moving swift and agile like he was any other creature in the sea.
Sure, he had another terrestrial form...but having gills and webbed fingers and toes were really fun too.
Maybe I should catch lunch, he pinches his chin as he approaches the open sea. Tuna sounds good. It'll a while, but it's tuna. Marlin's good too.
Matthias bumps his head on something. He hisses, rubbing the aching bump. He hears loud sloshing followed by a shout and a very loud splash.
The Dane looks up and sees the bottom of a yacht, a small one. Curious, he surfaces—gills opening and closing making loud blowhole sounds. He pushes his hair back with his cold, glowing and webbed hand and pinches his nose afterwards.
A dog barks and scurries to the starboard. There was a loud laugh in the water. Splashing and playing followed, the dog sounded ecstatic at its owner.
"I'm fine, probably just a wave..."
Denmark blushes deep red when he heard that voice. He sinks below nose-level. Then the dog spots him.
It was a leonberger, barking at him with its round, loud, and cheery voice. Panicking, Matthias shushed the dog as best as he could.
"Stoppe, Bowser." He leaps to cover his furry friend's mouth but gets a slobbery lick right his face.
"Bowser?" The owner of the boat had just hoisted himself up when he saw his dog excited over the back of the boat.
Mat curses, diving and swimming underneath the yacht to get to the other side.
Bowser tilts his head and whimpers. Alfred comes and rubs the thick ruff of his dog's neck. "What is it buddy?"
The large dog stays quiet and instead runs to the other side of the yacht with the wet American in his board shorts following intently.
The small yacht rocks with the heavy weight of the man and his dog. Al takes a firm grip on the railings and almost gets knocked overboard again.
"Matthias?" His eyes couldn't believe what he was seeing.
"Hej." An awkward laugh comes out of the older Dane, completely back to his human form. It's been months...with work and family—a lot of family-related drama—and all, it was really hard to stay in-touch with his best friend.
Mat was starting to feel really uncomfortable with the silence between them and the intensity of Al's gaze, so much so that he kinda scooted back.
The last time they really hung out was the night before at the Alexander bridge. The last time he saw him in person was at the airport in Paris before they went their separate ways. The last time they were in any contact with each other was like..a month ago probably.
America shakes his head, snapping out of it. He carefully gets down the ladder and even extends his hand with that same bright smile.
"So are you coming up or what?" He chuckles and waits patiently for the Mat to shake his sudden reluctance off.
Bowser barks and whimpers, lowers his front and wags his tail.
"Looks like someone misses you." Alfred pets his dog wantonly.
"I-I missed you..." His tanned skin darkened red especially the ears. Of course he missed him. Who else has he been glued to the hips with, excluding his twin?
"Are-are you coming up or what?" The American clears his throat and waves his out-reached hand.
"Ja, Ja...undsklyd." Denmark laughs and grabs the hand with another jump out of the water. He didn't see the happy eye-roll America gave.
Bowser started circling them the moment they both got on board.
"Whoa there boy!" Al gets nudge by the large dog closer to his...companion. A sudden push also gets Mat closer than necessary.
They were literally chest to chest but they weren't really paying attention to that until a sudden rock of the vehicle knocked Matthias off his feet and onto his back.
Alfred was pulled down with him. At the very least, he still had one arm keeping him from completely collapsing on top of the Dane.
"Well, this is awk—" he just stops talking and starts reddening. Mat's leg was between his thighs, Mat's hand was right on his beating heart, and Mat's eyes were only looking at him.
"—ward." Denmark drawls the last syllable out for him.
It was like they were both breathless before anything actually happened. America shakily brought himself down while the other stretched his neck out as best he could. Eyes closed, their lips were only inches apart...inches...inch...in—
A loud grumble erupts from the man beneath. They both look at the Dane's chiseled stomach. The younger blond immediately gets off of him and distances himself from the older one just by a feet or two.
They both knew the subconscious protocol: nothing happened.
"I-I haven't eaten breakfast yet." Matthias apologized shamefully, getting up to his haunches, before complete silence took over for an hour-felt minute.
The yacht rocked up and down. Up and down.
"I...have tuna." Alfred's chuckle sounded like a deflating balloon. Still, it made Matthias look up at him with some childish hope in his eyes.
"R-really?" Mat crawls forward with an undeniable sparkle in his eyes.
Too cute, Al thinks to himself.
"Ja." He gestured to the large, bloody fish behind him on the starboard that the other failed to notice earlier.
The fish seemed to have been caught fresh...and had large, gaping wounds that could've only been caused by...large claws...claws as large or maybe even larger than his own.
...or could it be nothing more than a series of harpoon, Denmark rationalized. There's no way Al could've done that unless, he spaces out, before another hungry call begged him to stop thinking.
"Sure, tak!" He flashes a broad grin and plans to stick with America for the rest of this excursion.
Belle
Macau had a knack for reading music sheets quietly, especially since he's trapped inside one of his many mansion resorts with nothing to do.
He skims through them and plays them perfectly in his head, imagining how wonderful it would be to have many arms to play a whole orchestra with. Better yet, how wonderful would it be to see his Scottish love play one of these romantic pieces for him. Sadly, he was just stuck here with no one to talk as his boyfriend busies himself with unnecessary work and all.
Li asked him to het more involved with Xavier's many businesses, so he gave him a managerial position here in the Barbados branch. Of course, the Scotsman just had to have determination as one of his defining attributes. The older man insisted the Macanese man to take a break and not lift a finger at all—to act as though he did not own the resort and play along as a guest...for the last two months.
With no one to talk to at all, it was just him and the books.
A part of him regretted hiring him in the first place, but...he just can't stop thinking about the big smile Scotland wears a lot nowadays. In addition, getting ravaged while his partner wore a suit was pretty much a big turn-on for him.
Never mind that, at least there was this huge library full of books and music sheets. He loves reading in general, a trait from centuries ago that he did not grow out of. He was even content with an awkward 'do you have prostrate cancer?' pamphlet from a random clinic. Of course, Xav makes sure to check his regularly.
Alistor blushes and closes the antique music sheet that was made specifically by Chinese pianists from the last century. His nice, sturdy body was dressed in a crisp, white dress shirt—opened a few buttons down, showcasing the small nestle between his pecs—cowboy jeans, and tan wingman shoes. His rich, wavy, dark hair was simply tied half back, away from his prickly face.
"Sir's boyfriend is a peculiar one, huh?"
"He does seem to act a little less anxious than sir. Also, he's nice..sorta."
"What do you mean nice? He is a fine piece of—"
"I won't listen to a single word that comes out of your dirty mouth."
The Xavier fails to hear the murmurs of the maids about his boyfriend. Instead, he passes the one-sided hall, letting the tropical sun and the salty breeze from the open left hit him, with a small novelette in hand already.
An old lady comes out her room with a laundry bag. She notices the handsome man and comes towards him, "excuse me young man, but could you—"
He grabs the plastic bag from her hands gently which made her yelp a tiny bit.
"Is it dry clean?" He asks, continuing to walk, the tanned woman following behind.
Her Hawaiian shirt was being blown hard by the wind. She grabs her large hat as she tries to keep up.
"No, dearie, you see...my grandson..."
"Made a mess of your summer dress for tonight's beachside buffet?"
"Well, yes, dearie...would you be so kind to add it to get it cleaned up?" She smiles when Macau finally stops.
"Don't worry, Madame, I'll make sure your dress'll be clean an hour before." He flashes a bright smile before politely leaving with the book and the bag.
Suddenly, he bumps into someone. He doesn't fall, merely gets pushed back a little and by the thick smell of mid-priced cologne, he knew exactly who it was.
He was standing in front of a dashing man with dark red hair, strands all gelled back except for one that dangled on his forehead. He had piercing green eyes, the purest greens he had ever seen, beneath thick, darker red brows that were crossed together. His subtle lips were but a thin, impatient line. His large and taut body was rigid, foot tapping and arms crossed, in his dark suit that had a plum sheen under the light.
"Hi, baby!" The younger man kissed him on the cheek but didn't seem to get the response he wanted.
"I told you to take a vacation." Alistor says sternly, ripping the bag out of his lover's hand. "That means no chores either."
"I know, but...isn't two months long enough?" Xavier asks innocently, scratching the back of his head.
His partner laughs loudly. "No, it isn't. You deserve a whole year off!"
Macau sighs heavily, unable to find the sufficient spirit to fight. "Sure, xie xie." His shoulders slouch and he walks around Scotland.
Alistor watches as he goes, happy to alleviate the stress such a huge company has put on his sweet Xavier.
...to be continued!
REEEEEEEEREREREEEEEEEEEEAAAAAD! OMG! Please read! I hate saying this, but I AM DESPERATE!
Author's Note:
MiCHELLE=SeyCHELLEs! *GASP*
Part 2...hmmm, parte two-eh!? Maybe...just maybe...within this month...hopefully, crossed are my fingers.
I'm sorry I couldn't post anything on October! I was just really, really, really out of inspiration. And since college was tough...a break was really, really wanted. And sadly, next week is the start of classes. Please forgive me.
On the brighter side, I want to post one more story before I go and...IDK about Christmas, my relatives are coming home and my family's gonna be busy! HUHUHUHUHUHUHU! I just hope you know that I'll never leave this or forget my stuff here just because I'm too lazy to do something about it, I'll always be around.
In the mean time, I hope y'all remember that you can drop asks...and...make suggestions because I am literally out of stuff to write at the moment.
I mean, my DenAme story's hit another iceberg and I probably want to start a new one someday! UGH! I just wanna draw and write and draw and draw and draw but...eh, college! XD
Love you all, please don't 4get me!
ALSO! RANT TIME!
A lot of mumbling's been going on inside the Hetalia fandom when Hima-senpai…drop a small hint that Denmark's a really sad guy inside, you know?! And I was like, DAMN! I SAW THIS COMING! Like, I have always thought that there was something he was hiding and that just really, really makes me happy because…I've always forecasted stuff happening and it does but sad because BAE IS SAAAAAAAAD! XC.
Anyway, I've always liked drawing Denmark more vulnerable, more conscious of the world around him but I've always been rather reluctant in portraying him as such because people seem to expect more of the happy-go-lucky one! And now I hope you start appreciating him more! KAY! Thanks!
HAHA! I have doubled you guys! (so not in a thinking mood to reassess my intelligence and capabilities in grammar and coherency! TEEHEE!)