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Similar Deviations
Harry's POV***
Paul: You!!
Paul ran at us. We stayed holding hands.Louis squeezed harder every step Paul and Simon took. I rubbed his hand softly. Once Paul and Simon reached us they were smiling.
Paul: This is great!!!!!!! All the fans love it!!!
Louis: So me and Harry can date?
Simon nodded irratated but ok with the fact it would keep One Direction popular. I kissed Louis's cheek and all the boys ran up behind Paul and Simon out of breath.
Liam: Sorry... We couldn't hold them off anymore.
Harry: It's alright they said its ok that we date!
Zayn: WOOHOO! FInally i got some gay friends.
Louis laughed really loud at that comment. This was Louis's real laugh and it was so cute. I smiled at him. We were still holding hands. I liked being taller than Louis. It was fun. We all joined onto the bus after the VIP signing and pictures.
Niall: Where are we eating?
Liam: The club.
Zayn: yea you can eat at the bar.
Niall: Wait, why are we going to a club.
Louis: To celebrate Harry and I dating and being accepted.
He smiled at me and i smiled at him. We arrived at the club. It was loud. It was dark too which was great! Now we didn't have to worry about people reconizing us. We entered the club and started dancing. We drank too. Being underaged, we had to act like we were older. It worked. And it worked  little too much for Lou. He drank alot. But i didn't mind. Drunk Louis was always the funnest. We were dancing together.
Me: Lou! I gotta go to the bathroom! I'll be back!!!
Louis just swayed his hand. I chuckled and went to the bathroom. I came out and Niall was tugging on my shirt.
Niall: Hurry! Louis is in trouble!!!
Everyone's voices were slurred from drinking. Niall stumbly dragged me to Louis and this large black guy. Louis was yelling. I ran past everyone and went up to drunk Louis.
Me: Louis! Stop you're gonna get hurt!!
Louis swung towards me with a fist. And before i knew it i got hit. I fell to the ground. Louis passed out from drinking. Liam helped me up and to the van and Niall and Zayn carried Louis to the van. Louis hit me. I was so pissed off and didn't want to speak to him... I was only trying to help.
Here it is!!
Sorry to the girl who messaged me and asked me when it was going to be up!!

Sunday(:
Maybe i'll upload the next part too(: (:
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Alfred woke up in a panic. His head was pounding, he groaned while he sat up, no longer laying against the uncomforable bed that he was placed on. He looked around the unrecognizable dark room.

A loud knock came from the door. "C-Come in," he said, fearing of who was on the other side. The door opened, revealing a tall man with a white scarf wrapped snugly around his neck. Alfred looked at the man, something about him was familiar, but he didn't know what.

"How are you?" the tall man said.

Alfred scanned the man from head to toe. He wore a long brown coat, a long white scarf, shiny heavy brown boots, he had blazing purple eyes and platinum blond hair. "I-I ...."

"Whats wrong, da?" the tall man asked.

Alfred flinched when he heard, 'da'. Why though? He asked himself. He had a sudden feeling that he was in danger. He quickly jumped out of the uncomfortable bed, hoping to run from this dreaded feeling. When he began to run something yanked him back to the bed, causing him to stumble.

Alfred looked at his foot, it had a rusty metal chain around it, the rusty metal was attached to the bed.

Alfred looked at the man, staring into those deep purple orbs. "Who the hell are you? Why am I chained? Why am I here? Why can't I remember anything?"Alfred yelled in pure terror.

"Isn't it obvious, little America?"the man said as he left, shutting the door behind him.

Alfred looked around the room once again. This time noticing cameras all watching him. "Let me out!" He shouted to them over and over again.
Alfred has no memory of where he was. He's badly hurt but a stranger comes and saves him. Who is this stranger? Is this stranger, the voice he heard of the night of the escape?

Next Chapter:[link]

Last Chapter: [link]
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Divina sinucidere a unui înger


Te-am urmărit într-o zi să-ţi dăruiesc
cel mai de preţ lucru ce aparţine iubirii
şi anume Eternul Clişeu.

Ofensată, m-ai refuzat şi ai fugit,
lăsându-mi totuşi scrijelite pe o bucată de hârtie
Cuvintele Alese:

'O, tu, Hyperion, de-ai reuşi tu să mă prinzi,
trupul meu va fi al tău timp de o oră pământeană.'


...vreme de-un an am încercat, dar totul a fost în zadar.

Te-am pierdut
- undeva printre luminile difuze şi nuanţele de corali -
în timp ce aşteptai la nesfârşit contopirea cu
Nimicul Revelator.

Căci nimeni nu poate deocamdată să evite a fi
uman, cu atât mai puţin un
Semizeu Frivol.
.
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"Wave goodbye to ya head, wanka."
The Sniper pulled his trigger.
"Boom. Headshot."
The Sniper cocked the bolt on his gun and climbed down from his perch. He straightened his hat as he walked to his camper van, a triumphant grin on his face partially hidden behind his mirror shades. He started it up and drove over the bumpy terrain of the Australian outback, his dashboard bobble head bouncing wildly.
Life on the Australian outback ain't easy. It was hot, dry; loads of animals itchin to finish ya off; Ya had to be dressed properly. Wide brimmed hat to keep the sun outta your eyes. Long sleeved shirt for when the going got tough(his shirt was khaki) and a vest with pockets full of ammo. A good kukri didn't hurt neither.
He'd spent many nights sleeping in the compartment above the cab of his camper van. Sometimes he'd run out of ammo and have to pull out his kukri to do the job. But no matter how bleak things seemed, he always prevailed in the end.
Sometimes it was too hot to do anything, so he'd miss a day sitting in the back of his van, rationing his food supply again.
There was a lot that could go wrong out here. Get bit by a raddle snake and you'd have to haul your ass back to town at the speed of sound, or else you'd die out here. No town for miles and miles.
Today he had just been camping around in the same spot, waiting for something to come along to the coast.
First kill of the day.
As he approached his kill his grin grew wider.
"Sorry mate!" He said in his heavy Australian accent. "Now I gotta make a necklace outta ya teeth. Bushman's rules."
He had blown the scalp off of a large, male, Saltwater Crocodile with his customized Remington 700.
"Merchant gonna pay a pretty penny for this."
And so he set to work. He took it's teeth, and put it in a body bag. After placing the bag into the back of his camper van(his living space), he drove back toward town.
He'd sell the meat of his kills to a local merchant down by the docks. Good way to make money.
Kill, sell, eat, repeat.
He'd go long periods of time without human contact and food, just tracking his prey like a lion tracks a bull elephant.
Slowly and carefully, with much vigilance. Making no wrong moves. Tension and power.
He came to a large tree with dozens of vultures roosting in it. He got out and searched around in the back of his van until he found his box of ammo.
He climbed up onto his camper van and loaded up his rifle. Then he looked through the scope and made some adjustments.
Near the very top of the tree was a freak-of-nature, giant vulture.
Perfect.
He held his breath to keep as still as possible. He lined up his laser sight with the vulture's head.
Boom!
All the other vultures flew off, startled.
Thanks for standin still wanka!
He ran under the tree to claim his fallen prize.
Suppa!
He wrapped it up and put it in his van. He got back in, started the engine, and headed down the road.
He arrived into town and looked around as he smelled the salt air of the sea. Beauty.
There were people walking around the town, life going as usual. Nothing too interesting. He decided to stop at the boozer and pick up a countery.
He reached the pub and got out. Upon stepping in, he was instantly surrounded by taxidermy, the stench of booze, and the loud voices of hunters boasting.
He ordered himself some Vegemite and amber fluid. Then he walked into the corner where all the hunters sit.
"So I'm out in me boat, fishin, and a big, ugly, grey nurse shark comes up and attacks me boat. I'm sittin , mindin me own business, and 'e comes up want'n a fight! So, to protect me boat, I jump on top of 'im and punch 'im in the snout."
The Sniper sat there, enthralled in this tale, spreading some Vegemite on toast and swigging some amber fluid.
"So e's flounderin around, tryin to knock me off, but I'm too strong for 'im! I end up beatin im to death. So I take 'is teeth, for arrow heads, and go back to fishin!"
All the hunters around looked impressed, while the speaker puffed out his chest, hands on his hips, and grinned.
"Oh any bludga can big-note imself!" the Sniper spat out after swigging a shot of amber fluid. "That's impressive, spare the fact that grey nurse sharks are endangered."
All the hunters looked from the Sniper to the man who boasted, who now was speechless.
"If ya gonna play the game, play by the rules, mate."
All the hunters grinned. The boaster looked embarrassed and hushed up.
"So, Mundy. Any good kills today?"
"Just a big-ass, bloody, Saltwata Croc!"
They all looked impressed and nodded as he retold the first kill of the day.
"Oi, that'll make some bloody good eats."
"Spice up that jerky and put it in a sandwich!"
The Sniper mouth began to water at this. Crocodile jerky beat beef jerky any day. So he left to go to market.
He reached the market and went in. Once inside, he smelled the aroma of fresh fish and
up at the counter was the very man he was looking for.
"'Ello there, mate!" The Sniper said, approaching the counter.
"Oi! What'll it be this time?" The man behind the counter asked, his anticipation obvious.
"Just a big, beautiful Slatwata Croc!" The Sniper boasted, looking over his sunglasses.
"Ace!" the man said, impressed.
They went out to the camper van and the Sniper opened up the body bag for the clerk to see.
"Oh 'e's a bottla!" The clerk exclaimed. Now came the hard part. "I give yeah 250."
"250?" The Sniper asked. "Not on my watch, mate."
"270."
"Keep bloody 'goin!"
"The value 'o croc's just goin down!" The clerk said. "270. Max."
"Alright, mate," The Sniper said disappointed, but tipping his hat all the same. 270 was enough to feed him, and that's all he really needed.
After receiving payment, he moved the croc to the store's freezer and went back to the van.
There stood a man in a black suit. He wore a fedora and sunglasses. This guy looked like trouble. Very suspicious.
"Hello, Mr. Mundy," The man spoke in an American accent.
"Ello Mista..." The Sniper started for him.
"Do you know what Mann Co. is?" The man asked, ignoring him.
"No," The Sniper said carefully. That's some shonky business right there.
"We need your help," The man said casually. "You're the best hunter in all of Queensland. The only difference is, now we need you to hunt people."
"You appear to 'ave made a blue," The Sniper said, angrily. "I'm a Bushman. Not an assassin!"
"We'll pay you handsomely," The man said. "You won't need to sleep another night in that van of yours."
"Sorry mate," The Sniper said, opening the door. "My answer stands."
"Oh, okay," The man said, shrugging. "The animals don't see it coming. That's shooting fish in a barrel. Men... well that takes skill. Which I guess you don't have."
"Oi!"
The Sniper got out of his van and slammed the door. This man had struck a very sensitive nerve. Somebody doubts his skill? Mess them up.
"You listen 'ere mate!" he said, pointing right at the man's face accusingly. "Nobody says ratbag rubbish like that 'bout me and gets away with it!"
He turned away and rubbed his stubble and muttonchops, thinking hard.
"If it's a war you want, it's war you'll get! I'll show you! I'm in!"
"Thank you Mr. Mundy."
And as the Sniper started getting into his camper van, he was chloroformed.
This may be a little poor, but it's my first Fan fic, so keep that in mind. There's Aussie slang in there too

The Sniper's normal day. Until TF Industries shows up.
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Madrid, 30 de Junio de 3030


-


Cierro el cuaderno en el que estoy escribiendo. Hace días que empecé un diario. Respiro  con profundidad y miro el cielo. No veo nada nuevo y no me gusta, me aburro. Estoy sentada en el banco de Aldrich. Recuerdo cuando era más pequeña y hablaba con él. El tiempo pasaba rápido escuchándole.


John era una persona extraña, pero a mí me caía bien. Llevo dos años intentando investigar sobre quién era en realidad, pero parece haberse esfumado en la nada. Nadie le recuerda, no hay ningún escrito sobré él, ningún archivo informático. Ningún periódico, nada. Su casa fue derruida y todo rastro de su existencia, borrado. Fue como si las mentes de las personas hubiesen sido formateadas como a un ordenador.


Es como si nunca hubiese existido. ¿Soy yo la única que le recuerda?


Por supuesto, menos encuentro sobre su supuesta máquina del tiempo. Llevo dos años investigando.


Me llamo Gaia, y soy la más fiel seguidora de El mentiroso de Gran Vía. Desde su muerte no hago más que darle vueltas a sus palabras. Estoy segura de que no era un lunático. Y si lo era, me da igual, sus palabras me hacían feliz. Pero estoy segura de que Aldrich no mentía.


Recuerdo mis conversaciones con él. Entonces yo sólo era una mocosa ignorante del mundo gris en el que le había tocado vivir. Y todo lo que era nuevo y emocionante, lo absorbía como una esponja. Era un blanco perfecto para las maravillosas historias de Aldrich, como muchos otros niños deseosos de fantasías.


"—Señor Aldrich, ¿Cuántos años tiene?


— ¿Años?—El hombre se echó a reír—No quiero fardar, pero no lo recuerdo.


— ¡Entonces sí que tiene usted que ser mayor!


—Claro, pequeña. Yo he vivido muchos años, por eso puedo contaros tantas cosas. Es lo que tiene viajar en el tiempo, ¿no?


—Sí…"


Puede que sea infantil el creer que ese hombre realmente viajó el  tiempo, pero yo estoy segura de eso, y tengo una buena razón para creerlo. Es lo que todo el mundo quiere. La tecnología está muy avanzada, pero nunca nadie ha conseguido inventar alguna máquina que desafíe el espacio-tiempo. Ahora mismo tengo delante de mí un vehículo eléctrico que funciona con luz solar. Según decía John, eso antes era impensable.


John Aldrich era ese tipo de persona que daba el aspecto de saberlo todo, así que pudo ser posible que hubiese hecho grandes descubrimientos, pero todavía tengo que confirmar eso.


He mencionado a otros niños. Esos niños se han hecho mayores y han olvidado a Aldrich. Se han sumergido en sus trabajos, familias y demás, y han asumido este mundo gris y apagado. Yo no, nunca le olvidaré, no puedo. Algo me ata a él.


Confío tanto en Aldrich porque él creyó en mí. John quiso que yo continuase haciendo lo que él llevaba a cabo: descubrir a las personas de Madrid que existió un mundo mejor hace muchos años. El mentiroso me relató todos sus secretos (excepto el de su misteriosa máquina, no me lo va a dar todo hecho), lo dejó todo preparado antes de morir, aunque pareciera que no.


Cuando John estaba a punto de fallecer, me descubrió por qué me dijo aquella vez que no recordaba su edad.


Siempre vi algo extraño en él, distinto a las demás personas. Aldrich me lo explicó:


El tiempo no actuaba sobre él, no envejecía.


Y por razones que luego explicaré (aunque yo tampoco comprendo bien), ahora, a mí me pasa lo mismo.


Llevo diez años aparentando tener catorce.


Os dije que tenía una buena razón para creerle, y algo me ataba a él.

:D
Dije que no tendría continuación, pero aquí esta. Voy a escribir una historia, porque estoy con la inspiración a cuestas xD
Prólogo: [link]
Cap 1: You are here ò__o
Cap 2: [link]


En fictionpress: [link]

La imagen no es mía, es del pintor Antonio López ... (inquietante , eh? )
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A Dip in the Channel Part 1- An England X Reader X France insert

What's the space separating two long time rivals and allies? Why it's the English Channel, or as the French call it, La Manche, a sea boarder that keeps England and France from ripping each other's throats out.

You, dear reader, are figuratively put in this otherwise compromised neutral space, however not without years of fighting over anyway. This puts France and England in a position to make a very rare compromise with each other, allows them to exchange their love for you; something they might not get to do unless they share you.

Time period is Now…ish, with mentions of the Olympic opening ceremony and of younger days.
===========================================================

If there was any particular person who had not felt good about them selves for a long while, then it was certainly Arthur Kirkland, the representative of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.

Adjusting his patriotic Union Jack cuff links, quite a nice touch to his brown suit and burgundy tie, he inspected himself in the full-length mirror situated in his bedroom. In doing so, the blond, bushy-eye browed nation couldn't resist a prideful and victorious smirk that was similar to the one he flashed at the Spaniard after defeating his rather pathetic Armanda.

Tonight was the opening night of the 2012 Olympic games held in London, an event that set the tone for the host country's preparation in handling such an important event.  After years of planning, work, and money, the nation of Great Britain was finally ready to kick off hosting the Olympic games with a splendid opening night, even the former Beetles member Paul McCartney would do a performance and the queen herself, good old Bess the 2nd  , would do her first acting role with an famous British icon. Indeed, today it was good to be him.

It had been Frances' idea to revive these Greek games back in the summer of 1896 in Athens. While one might reminisce pleasantly about being present on such a historic day, the memory only brought a scowl to the Brit's face as he had been made to become bothered by the Frog's indecent advances on his person; all in an attempt to annoy and publically humiliate him due to their bad blood.

Bad associations with the Olympics aside, it was mid-morning of the eve that the Opening ceremony would start tonight. It also meant that it was almost time for afternoon tea. This time, England had a special guest for this private event who was always one of the few reasons the Englishmen's mood would lift, and it was all because of you dear _______ , the nation of (country).

You see, he wanted to squeeze some personal time with you before attending the opening ceremony with all the other nations later that evening.

Being the closet romanticist that England happens to be, he figured this was his chance to finally confess his long felt desires for you.  In his mind's eye, everything would go along swimmingly. You, being the teary-eyed maiden, overwhelmed by this confession and would return your feelings for him; exchanging a kiss with him and then insisting that you both share each other's passions before attending the ceremony.

Both of you would then sit together in the VIP stadium reserved for nations, holding hands and whispering sweet nothings throughout the whole event as you both admired your countries' team openings. The firework display would provide a perfect excuse to cuddle close and perhaps exchange a kiss or two.

What was your connection to England? Well, concerning your political past with each other, you and he go way back as being allies since at least the 18th century.  He had defended your small country from the cocky Frogs' Napoleonic advance, all in exchange for your alliance against the Frog from thereon; however, you indeed proved yourself to him as being more than just an ally.

"In my most professional and unbiased of opinions", England lectured to his reflection,  "_____ has to be the most charming, witty, and courageous Lady I have ever perchance to meet. I must say, with our minds put together we can do unimaginable things."

'We can also do unimaginable things if we put our bodies together', a naughty voice in the back of the Brit's head announced, causing a light blush to dust across his pale checks.

It would take a lot of coaxing to have him admit it, but England was indeed attracted to you physically as well.  

How he longed to run his fingers through your (h/l), (h/c) hair and to wrap his arms sensually around your waist to pull you into a mind-blowing kiss; one that would leave you weak at the knees upon the entrance of his tongue, slithering gently across your luscious lips to be granted permission to enter and fence with your own smooth muscle, making claim upon it.  

He would sense you swooning from his bold actions, whereby he would take one of his arms to put under the back of your knees to lift you up bridal style, and climb the stairs to take you to his bed. It was a step up from just sharing a kiss with you but he would seize the moment, knowing you wanted it too.

He would lay you down on his Satin sheets and climb on top and straddle you, gazing into your  (e/c) eyes full of anticipation and desire for him, as he would then proceed to…  "STOP! ", the Brit exclaimed as he grasped the edge of a nearby dresser for support. His face burned bright red with embarrassment as he pulled at his messy tuff of golden blond hair in attempt to disrupt his ongoing thought pattern.

"Get it together old chap, these are certainly not the thoughts a Gentleman such as yourself must regard Ms. (l/n) as, and especially within the hour of her arrival." England rambled to himself as he tried to eliminate  (mentally eliminate you Johnny perverts, he can't be caught with his pants down now, at least not yet~) the unwanted, but rather pleasant, excitement in his loins at the scenario he would love to reenact with you. He began thinking of a particular Frenchman and an American, also throwing in a certain Spaniard in there for good measure. Immediately, the flame that was previously downstairs was extinguished.  

'Ah, much better… Now I must set up for tea as I would hate to look inadequately prepared in front of Ms. (f/n), especially when this date is for her,' the Brit thought to himself, feeling flushed at the fact that this could be counted as an unofficial, yet legitimate "date" with you. Maybe other outings he had with you counted as dates. He certainly hoped so.

Heading down the narrow staircase that lead up to the second floor of his central London flat, England went through the parlor room and into the kitchen, where he took out his good tea set from the cupboards and placed it on a silver tray situated on the kitchen counter, already waiting to be occupied.

He proceeded to fill a clean sugar bowl with the sparkling granules his nation had fought in wars to get and also took out a full serving glass from the fridge filled with fresh crème'.  He opened the pantry, and took from a tin, some of his famous English scones that he was always happy to serve to his guests and set them on a serving tray.

Once everything was assembled, the Brit carefully carried the full tray to his parlor room and placed it on his coffee table. Sitting down on the couch, he looked at his Grandfather clock to check how his progress was doing before your arrival. 'Let's see…Ah! 11:52Am, splendid! I made it just in time! Way to be a not failure me. Now, knowing _________, she'll be here on the money at 11:55 like she said she would and not a minute later', England thought to reassure himself.

Placing a leg over his knee, a rare smile crossed England's lips. Yes, things were looking up for him. He would get the girl he had always longed for, but never had the courage to pursue until he became fed up with himself for putting it off, and get the praise from all the other nations for putting on a smashing Olympic opening.

And so, England waited and waited…and waited.

11:53 turned into 12:03 PM, which turned into 12:12.

Bouncing his leg nervously, England started to worry that something bad must have had happened to you that could account for your tardiness. He felt the strong urge to call you up just to check.

'Knock'

'Knock'

Turning his head at the sound of the gentle knocks upon his front door, England got up and briskly walked over to let you in.

Opening the door, he was greeted by the lovely sight that was you.

========================================================
I think now's a good time to switch POVs here to the reader's.
========================================================

Today, you were wearing one of your favourite professional outfits: a pencil skirt and a (f/c), long sleeve button up shirt, complete with black garter stockings and black heels.  Such an outfit was required as you were having mid day tea with one of your good acquaintances and long time ally, England. You would also be heading straight to the opening ceremony as your nation's representative and you certainly wanted to look good for the cameras.   

Recently, however, you couldn't help but wish for the relationship status you had with the Brit to be made into something more special, and that had certainly influenced you into wanting to look nice for England.

Walking your usual route to England's house, heels clicking against the London sidewalks as you walked past Nelson's Column in Trafalgar square, you couldn't help but think back to a particular point in time when your feelings for England blossomed.

============================================================================

"Bloody Hell", England screeched as he slammed his now empty glass of beer, most likely the first of many unless someone intervened quickly.

"Where does that bloody Frog get off about mocking my latest food innovation? 'Oh L'Angleterre, what were vous smoking when you came up with ze Boiled Fish in ze Bag?(1) (2) Never 'ave I seen such atrocities done to les poissons. Oh well, let us hope it is ze English fish zat suffer such a le miserable fate, ohonhonhonhon.' Absolute codswallop! The fish in the bag is genius! You here me!?" The angry Brit ranted after mimicking his long-standing rival in a mockery of the French accent and language. Turning his whole body in your direction, he then pointed to his head as if to add emphasis to his point. "Genius!"

Turning away and placing both elbows on the bar counter, he slapped it and demanded another beer from the poor bartender working overtime that evening in the smoky, cigarette filled South Yorkshire pub in Sheffield.

Meanwhile, all you could do was sit in the bar stool adjacent to him, nodding your head slowly. You pretended to sip your rather disgusting and over the top martini you regretted ordering as you tried your best not to hint your true feelings about the Fish in the bag product. Sure, the 1970s' for England right now was all about the introduction of convenience food, what with television being better than it ever used to be, but come on, fish in the bag?  Can you say gross?  France was right …apparently England was still high from the 60's.  And he was still sensitive about the most trivial of things.

Patting his shoulder, you tried to lighten the Brit's foul mood. " Oh lighten up Arthur. You know how he likes to tease you; so don't let it get to you.  He's really a nice guy."

"A nice guy?" England turned to face you with an unimpressed scowl plastered on his face. "  _________, how can you stomach defending that foppish twit? He's a bloody bastard and that doesn't even provide the summary of what I really think about him … d-don't tell me," Arthur blushed as he stuttered slightly "that you prefer his company over mine."

The Brit gave you a scrutinizing stare, his dark bushy brows furrowed as he played the bad cop in his interrogation.

" What? Do I annoy you somehow? Have you been taking me on some kind of ride, where you pretend to be my friend and then go laugh at my problems with the frog after you tell him? Have you—"

" Oh lighten up," you giggled, playfully punching England's shoulder. " You know I don't judge or listen to what either of you have to say about each other, you and he are both so biased that way. And I would never conspire against you. You have to remember, France is my friend as well; I would defend you if he talked you down in front of me. "

England turned away, looking down at his refilled glass the bartender had slide down the table seconds ago, his mouth drawn in a thin line. He mumbled something under his breath that you couldn't quite make out, but thought you caught a  'God, I wish you could just see how , hhhherrm … the look in his…grunt.'

Not taking it too seriously, you continued where you left off as he stared at the counter.

"Honestly Arthur, I do care for you and am lucky to know you like this. You've gotten over tougher stuff, what with Alfred's revolu-"

You stopped when you noticed him visibly cringe.

"Okay, maybe not. Sorry, I forgot you still hate talking about that. Anyway, all you have to remember is that I think you are one of the most…no actually…the most amazing person I look up to. You've been there for me during the best and the worst of times and I've done the same for you.  And I've-"

"Said enough on the subject" the Brit interrupted. His shining emerald eyes now made contact with your (e/c) ones, staring intently.  You couldn't help but notice something unfamiliar was in them.

What he did next shocked you even to this day. England had reached over, took your right hand gently and placed a kiss upon it.

You immediately blushed at the feel of his lips on your sensitive skin, remaining completely still as he held your hand in his. His cool, smooth lips lingering perhaps a little longer than what seemed necessary as he pulled up to face you; your skin burning with the memory of his contact and burned for more.

"Thank you ______ , I know I can be an Ass most of the time but I appreciate the patience you have with me. In fact, I think it's time I told…. Oh bollucks ________, how do I put this? It's time that I —"

"Pay your bill owd lad" A booming, Yorkshire voice cut Arthur off. Both of you turned in the voice's direction to see the tired looking bar tender across the counter from the both of you. "We're closen now for toneet n' faiv minut. Please pay your bills an' 'ave tha a good nigh' there love an' tha too owd lad, don't be nesh now." He placed your bills on the counter and then shuffled away.

Not quite understanding what the bartender said, you still managed to get the gist of what he was trying to say.  

You turned back to look at the side of Arthur's head as he avoided your gaze by looking down at both of your bills. "Uh, Arthur." You prompted. "It's time that you, uh…what exactly?"

Turning his head back to you, he looked down to notice that his hold was still on your hand. He released it quickly as if he burned himself. Eyes shifting from you, to the bills, and back to you, he finally spoke.

"It's time that I…walk you back to your car. Yes … that's what I was about to say before we were so rudely interrupted" England stressed, adding emphasis to the last sentence as he glared at the bar tender who was oblivious to the daggers in his back.

You nodded in understanding, feeling that the awkward moment needed it. Arthur then got off his stool, grumbling about how rude people were when they interrupted others, and slammed the amount of pounds needed to pay both of your bills onto the counter and started to head towards the door.

You got off your stool and stood there for a moment; trying to process how strange that moment was. You figured he was just being gentlemanly to you as a female friend—his only female friend.  Yet, a small and growing part of you felt let down that his act of friendship didn't turn out to be something more.

Arthur stopped at the door's entrance, turning his head to gaze at you with an annoyed expression. "Well, are you coming or would you rather stand there and wait for Christmas to come?"

Rolling your eyes at Arthur's never ending sarcasm, you followed after him.

You reassured yourself that whatever you felt at the moment for Arthur, be it even the tiniest bit of a crush, would past with time. After all, many kinds of infatuations fade with time.

Right?

===================================================================================

Phew, that was long. I think that flashback could have been a story all on its own. Oh well, I think it's a cool glimpse of your relationship with England.

===================================================================================

Hmmm. Fade. Right. The act you thought would motivate you to move on. Oh, If only that had been that simple.

Your feelings for Arthur had not faded at all actually, if anything they strengthen. Whatever infatuation you had with Arthur before this event was now set in stone. That little devil had apparently struck you with his accursed arrow; as a result, your feelings evolved into a strong desire for everything that was Arthur.

You constantly replayed that memory in your head and spent whatever time you could with him. You never dared to let out any hints that he was the one you fancied and loved. You were worried that revealing your true feelings for him would ruin your friendship, so you kept completely poker faced about the matter.

It was so frustrating, wanting what you couldn't have and especially that thing being Arthur. However, your reluctance to tell Arthur your feelings was also held back by another dilemma, and that dilemma was France.

No, France wasn't cockblocking you directly. Worse, he was doing it indirectly. It was complicated, but somewhere down your long road with him you had also fallen in love with the beautiful Frenchman as well.

You could only imagine the nightmare scenario of what would happen if you confessed to one of them about your feelings. Not only did you fear rejection, but you also feared ruining your friendships with both of them.

It was a scary scenario that you predicted would happen with how England or France would react. The person you confessed to would reject you, as both a lover and a friend, while the other who heard about your proposal would be disgusted with your intimate feelings for their long-term rival and reject your friendship with them as well.

You were split down the middle, to say the least, as you could not even begin to imagine the impossible reality it would be to have both of them. Those thoughts were reserved for the fantasies you liked to torment yourself with.  So you compromised to having both England and France just as close friends. So far, they seemed to accept that and you continued to suffer in silence with your unrealistic desires…Great.

Turning your thoughts from your psyche, your attention focused at the task at hand as you found yourself almost having walked passed England's gorgeous flat.

Walking up the small steps, you gently knocked on his door and were immediately greeted by the handsome, bushy-browed Englishman.

=============================================================================

"Hey England! I'm so happy you invited me up for tea! It was a great idea as a way to catch up before all us countries attend the opening ceremony." You beamed at him, taking in his finely suited features.

"By the way, I'm Sorry I'm late. I stopped to make small talk earlier on my way here and I guess time caught up with me. Ha ha, I guess this moment is a precedent for what happens when I'm late."

"Ah hem… Well yes, quite." England agreed curtly, his checks a little flushed as he took in your appearance. "Just consider yourself lucky you aren't late enough to have gone and made the tea cold." The mercurial British Gentleman lectured, but deep down you knew he was happy to see you too.

Stepping aside, he extended one of his arms in a welcoming gesture into his home. "Now please, before you float away from all the air inside your head, do come in."  

"Don't mind if I do", you candidly replied as you stepped through the door, laughing a little at the fact that you were one of the few people to understand and appreciate his dry sense of British humor.

Closing the door after you, England led you to his parlor room where he had gone to the trouble of setting out tea for the both of you to enjoy.  

And Oh look! There was also food. There were…his famous scones. Oh boy. How were you going to avoid eating those?

Situating himself on one of the cushions of his comfortable couch, he patted the opposite cushion next to him. "Please, take a seat love."

Sitting beside him, a rush of temporary joy surged through you at hearing him address you by your favourite title he sometimes called you by.

Thanking him, you reaching over and poured yourself some of his delicious Earl Grey tea, along with adding the crème' and sugar to your liking.

"Ah wait my dear!" England exclaimed. You stopped dead in your tracks before you could even take your first sip.

Bringing forth the serving tray of scones with a big smile, he extended it towards you and offered you one of his burnt looking scones.  

Oh England, why did you make it so hard to be a good guest in your company? And why were you so prideful in everything? Geez.

Meanwhile, England anxiously waited; giving you a look that said, 'Well, what are you waiting for? Take one. '

Pitying yourself for your current circumstance, you took what looked like the least burnt scone and quickly took a bite of it to get it over with, just like what one would do when quickly taking a sip of some foul tasting medicine.

Immediately, a burnt taste assaulted your taste buds, but also something else. Was that the tiniest hint of flavor? Hmmm, maybe today's batch wasn't as bad as usual. Heck, maybe it would be edible if England paid attention for once and didn't burn them all the time.

England seemed rather pleased by your acceptance of his scone and had one himself.

Setting down your half eaten scone, you decided to find an excuse to stop eating by making small talk.

"So England, I bet your pretty excited for the opening games huh?"

Setting down his scone, England took a quick sip of tea, placing the teacup back in its saucer.

"Love, you need not be so formal as to call me that. Arthur will do just fine. And yes, I'm quite excited. A lot of money and time has gone into this opening event and I'm looking forward to it. Just like I'm looking forward to another event that will happen in the near future."

With that, England set down his tea.

"Oh really? Is there a pre-opening to the opening ceremony? Wow, you weren't kidding when you said a lot of time was spent planning this. But I'm sure it wasn't necessa—Whoa!!!"

Your current rant was cut off by a hard squeeze to one of your stocking clad thighs; almost causing you to drop your tea. Looking at your thigh and the hand that was grabbing it, you trailed your gaze up the arm to find that it was indeed the arm of the only other person in the room: Arthur Kirkland.

Arthur was wearing a devilish smirk and a certain gleam in his eyes; a combination you had never seen upon Arthur's face in the history that you'd known him for.

"Oh, sorry love. Did I startle you?" he asked in his smooth accent, gently removing your grasp on your tea with his other hand and setting it down on the coffee table.

"A-A-Arth - Arthur, W-W-What?" was all you could stammer out.

You. Didn't. Know. What . Else . To . Do.

Was this really happening?  He seemed so un-phased by what he had just done. Damn, his hand was still on your thigh like it was very comfortable being there.

"Shhh love.  I've got something important to tell you"

Something important? Aw shit. You knew you shouldn't have gotten your hopes up.  He had some confidential information to tell you and he trusted you as a friend to listen.  This calmed your demeanor significantly even with Arthur's hand still on your thigh, which seemed to put a slightly confused expression on Arthur's face.

Well, you had been listening to him for years now, so he might as well fire away. You could take it. You'd continue to play it cool.

"Of course Arthur. I'd be happy to hear~.  Did something backfire with the fireworks?  Wait. Have any of my athletes been caught doping? Cause I swear I'm not behind it I-"

"NO! _____ that's not it.", Arthur said firmly, almost shouting.

Taking matters into his own hands, he used them to gently cup both sides of your face; forcing your beautiful (e/c) eyes to catch his determined emerald gaze.

His own features softening at your flushed checks as he held them tenderly, he connected his forehead with yours.

"_________, my sweet _________. Know that I'll always consider you to be my best friend. But I propose we add an additional title to that.  So here it goes, __________ I want you to be my lover. Please, consider moving in with me. We've known each other long enough, but I want what we already have to be more. I want to finally have a reason to say I love you every time I see you, because I truly do, I love you__________. "

Removing his forehead from yours, he went to inspect your facial features and was touched by what he saw.

Tears filled your beautiful eyes, making them shine. A lump probably the size of your own fist was lodged in your throat, rendering you to be speechless. You couldn't believe what you had just heard; almost not wanting to believe you had. Did Arthur really just confess to you what you've always dreamed of hearing him say?  

'Yes, he has' A voice in your head answered back. 'And don't look now, but I think he's going in for a kiss'

Indeed, Arthur was leaning in for what looked like a kiss. "_____", he whispered to you silently, hands still gently cradling your face, as if he was worried you'd evaporate without some kind of possession over you. His eyes half lidded, gazing at you through his eyelashes as he leaned forward, mouth almost inches from your own. Your instincts took over, causing your own eyes to be half lidded as you leaned in to exchange the kiss you always wanted to give Arthur and no one else…and no one…else? ….

'Ma Cherie, S'il te plaît.  Is it too much to ask for you to reconsider?'
'It is Francis. It wouldn't be fair to either you or I.'

You pushed Arthur off of you back on the other side of the couch, panic coursing through your veins. What had you done?  And what was Arthur thinking?

Re-aligning himself after his stumble back from your push, Arthur's expression looked a kin to a child whose favourite toy was taken away from him as he stared right at you.

"_______" , w-what on earth is—
"I'm sorry Arthur, I can't. I just can't. Don't ask why, just know it's my fault."

Standing up, face flushed with embarrassment and humiliation, you couldn't bear to look at Arthur.

"I should probably go, I'll see you later at the ceremony." With that you stiffly walked towards the front door.

Arthur began to panic; his plans were not in the lovely sequence that he planned them in. They were in complete disarray! He especially didn't want things to end the way they did. How the hell would things get better after what just happened? Oh God, what if he just screwed up your friendship, the very base of your relationship with him. He had to make things right again before it was too late.

Standing up, he moved to stop you.

"_______! Wait I—"

" 'allo L'Angleterre ! You ass bouquet. ~  Your country gets more hideous by the minute no?  Ready for your little ceremony to ze worst in—Attendez?! . Q-quoi? _________? What are you doing 'ere at ze rosbif's shack?"

Both you and Arthur whipped your heads towards the opened window of the living room to find France's head peering in, looking both confused and unimpressed by what he saw..

Like fire to a match, an instant reaction came out of Arthur.

"FROG! Why must you constantly interfere with my life? Go bother someone else for a change! ______ and I are busy!"

"If you are busy with what I think you are doing, then I already know; there is no fooling moi mon ami. I won't let you soil mon chou with your filthy English hands!"

"YOU WANT A FIGHT FROG!? WELL YOU'VE GOT ONE!"

"DON'T THNK I'M SCARRED OF SOME GROSSIER PUNK LIKE YOU!"

"WHY YOU!"

Well, this is fun.

NOT!

You knew Arthur and Francis couldn't settle this one on their own; they would need your help.

The question was…how?

To be continued….
Well, it's finally here. My first fanfictiction virginity has been given to both France and England and I must say... It hurts so good. XD

I don't know what to make of it though. The whole time I was writing it and finish I was all :icondestroyplz::iconimdeadplz:, I don't know, let me know what you think.

Here's a link to an image that I was inspired by: [link]. Originally I had it as a preview image but after careful inspection of the DA rules on crediting images, I realized I was making a huge mistake by using it; people can actually get reported and have their hard work removed for this mistake. Besides, no one should have to use artwork to get more views for their fanfic UNLESS THEY ACTUALLY GET THE ARTIST'S PERMISSION TO USE THAT PIC AND CAN PROVE IT. Hopefully I didn't come off as a dick for saying all this. :XD:

I'm still going to follow through with the original plan of this story [link], with the story still taking place on the same day, just so you know and the opening ceremony toke place on July 27th of that evening. I know this chapter had to do a lot with England, and France only came at the end, but that was the point. I will do France justice in part 2 which will explain why you love him too.

Sorry I didn't Submit this earlier like I said I would on Friday; I slept for two whole days after the week I wrote about in one of my journals.

Anyway, here's the reference for the endnotes in the story cause I love talking about history, hence my love for hetalia.

1. Actual Link to fish in the bag, it’s a British product too! : [link]

2.Link to actual Seventies episode video where I got the idea to include the fish in the bag: [link]

I’m a big fan of this show; it’s a bbc show about different time periods of Britain’s culinary past and it’s so interesting and funny. XD I highly recommend it as we are all acquainted to the fact of how bad England’s cooking is, so it’s like documented proof of his rather long issues with food. XDDDDD

Translation of the old Yorkshire bean: "Pay your bill old lad. We're closing for tonight in five minutes. Please pay your bills and have yourself a good night there love and you too old lad, don't be nesh now." (old Yorkshire meaning "don't be unusally susceptible to the cold weather" and there is no synonym for this use.)

France's translations.
l’Angleterre = England
Vous= you
les poissons= the fish
S'il te plaît= the way to say please to someone you are close to
Attendez?! = wait?!
Quoi?= what?
rosbif= deurogatory term for the Engish, literally means "roast beef" and it is equivalent to the term the English use of "Frog" for the French.
moi and mon ami= me, my friend.
mon chou= pet name like 'my dear'; literally means "my cabbage" 0_0 but no one ever means it like that.
Gorssier= uncouth/uncivilized

I made references to quotes England and France have said in the English dub of World series, see if you can spot them.

Oh, almost forgot. I don't own hetalia.

Hetalia, England and France belong to :iconhimaruyaplz:

Story: Moi :iconwaterlily18:

You probably belong to :iconlafranceplz::iconkirklandplz:
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There's something about you
But I can't put my finger on it
You're different from the rest
But in a good way
I don't know what it is about you
But you pull me in
Maybe it's your eyes, full of happiness
Or your long, wavy hair
It could even be your smile
One that is so big and bright
I don't understand why I feel like this
Every time I see you, talk to you
Or even just imagine you with me
My heart races 10x fast
It only happens when I think of you
You entice me, make me happy
And most of all, you love me back
That must be it.. No one else could love me back as much as you do
No one else would put up with me
I guess that's also why I love you so much too
I'm glad you're different from the rest
Because compared to you, the rest are like clouds in the sky
All pretty much the same and something you see every day
Please stay different from the rest
And please stay with me too.
I love you.
Started writing with something in mind, then just let my thoughts dictate what was written.
For my girlfriend. I love her so much.

Check out my other poems: [link]

Poetry commissions: [link]
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silently they stalk the night
lost between this world and the next
hear the cries of their victims
as they bring thee "THINE" own death.
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Wells, Hugs, and Encounters

The purple miasma dissipated around them, letting her eyes view the man holding her by the waist with a possessive, yet dedicated touch. It was as if he was afraid to touch her, but at the same time, he needed to feel the warmth of her body under his trembling hands.

He looked desperate to have her next to him, but his actions made her question things she'd been certain about since their separation. Why he chose magic. Could it be that she'd been wrong all this time and he really did treasure magic more than anything and anyone. But his expression when he saw her again said the opposite, and his words and the way he spoke them was like a man awakening from a nightmare. He'd babbled nonsense, at least to her, and she didn't understand anything that was happening or why. She was in a strange world and a stranger, Jefferson, gave her the means to find him so he'd protect her from the queen.

He said all magic came with a price and she wondered the cost he'd have to pay. Would he reject her again when she least expected it. Would he cast her out the moment she made a mistake? She felt bad for thinking such things, but she only had their past together to draw her conclusions upon.

Rumplestiltskin moved his fingers along her waist, slow as if playing a soft, calm melody on a piano. If he continued, she'd either melt or end up cuddling in his embrace whether he wanted it or not. She forced herself not to get distracted; this time she wanted the truth. She needed to know the truth in order to save their hearts from ache.

Their gazes locked and she could see the desire for magic clinging in his eyes. She tried not to look hurt, but knew her emotions were betraying pain and doubt through her stare.

She stepped back, separating her body from his, but without breaking his hold on her waist. He looked confused. Worried.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice shaking.

She took a deep breath and gathered the courage for his future words, all the while trying not to remember the disaster that trigger her final act of bravery. When she dared to stand up to him. To call him a coward.

"Why'd you bring magic Rumplestiltskin?" He opened his mouth, but didn't speak. "I. . . I know you have your reasons but . . . is . . . was I wrong about how you feel?" She looked down, and prepared for the pain his answer would have on her.

He exhaled loudly and looked everywhere except her. A habit she knew he had when he was trying to find a way to escape something.

She stepped forward once again, letting his arm slide around her body. She placed her hand on his chest, wanting to treasure the closeness for as long as she could have it. She wasn't going to be the one to walk away. He'd have to be the one to leave.

"I know your power is important but—"

"Not as much as you." Her fingers reached up and she began playing with the buttons on his jacket. His arms tightened around her. "But I still need it."

"Will you tell me why?" She looked up at him, her eyes boring into his with a silent request to not cast her aside. For him to trust that she loved him and that he deserved to be loved.

"It was part of our deal, dear. So, like it or not, I have to fulfill it."

Her face and burden lightened, and her cheeks reddened. He buried his face in her brown hair, and took a deep breath to enjoy the aroma he'd missed so much. The freshness of a rose that he'd never allow to wither.

She happily surrendered to Rumplestiltskin's strange display of affection. She put one arm around him, and tangled his silky hair between her fingers, while the other hand kept fiddling with his jacket buttons and collar. She relished his beating heart underneath her hands.

"I always let the things I care about slip through my hands, I won't let you go again," he said. She nodded, pleased at his words. She felt his body relax around her. She pressed herself closer, a wordless gesture to give strength to him. "I need my power to protect you from the queen and make her pay for what she's done to you."

His voice was filled with pain and hatred. A hate bespeaking such a cruel revenge her mind couldn't fathom its equal. She pushed it back and encouraged him to continue the tale he hid for so long. "But that's not all," she whispered.

"No." He closed his eyes and inhaled again. "When you were in the castle with me, I told you I lost my son. That's not entirely true. It was tha—" he choked on his words. The last time he tried to tell her about his son, he evaded the subject. If she wanted him to tell her, to release a bit of the burden upon her, she had to offer her support each time his words failed.

Belle saw the anguish expressed in his eyes and his trembling lips. She moved her hand up, along his red tie, and then timidly stroked his shaven chin with her fingertips in an attempt relax his nerves.

Rumplestiltskin leaned into her touch for a moment before pressing his forehead against hers. "It's my fault he's gone. He tried to find a way to free me from the power I had. In his eyes I'd become a wretch. I said if he found a way to get rid of the powers without killing me, I'd do it. He did find a way, but I was afraid of returning to my old self and I broke my deal. He was sent to a different world. A world without magic, and without his father."

"He came to this world?"

He nodded. "The Blue Fairy made it possible with a magic beanstalk. It created a vortex that I didn't dare cross. I created this curse to come to this world, but I need magic to find my son in this vast place."

"You created the curse? I thought the queen was responsible."

At hearing her words, he laughed. "The queen is not that powerful dear, but she has a despicable heart. She had to carry out the vilest act, and she had the hatred to do it purely for revenge on Snow White. She never realized how she fell right into my manipulations." She heard gloating in his tone and looked away. "I told you I was a monster Belle," he whispered with bitterness.

She looked back at him. "You aren't. You have questionable methods of doing things, but your overall cause is noble."

"It's not always Belle. Don't be so naïve."

"So what do you feel now?" she demanded with more force than intended. She wasn't as naïve as he thought she was and hated that term when it was used to describe her.

"I have hope of regaining everything I lost. You're the proof. I thought you were dead but now… you're here." He took a shuddering breath, as if about to break into tears. "And if you still lo—" He closed his eyes.

Belle wrapped her arms around his neck. "If you were a monster then you wouldn't be able to feel what you feel or withstand having me in your arms. I wouldn't be able to love anyone that didn't have a heart."

He removed one of her hands from his shoulders, brought it to his lips, and kissed it. Her stomach tightened and her eyes burned because of the small gesture. "I don't deserve you Belle."

She shook her head and they leaned into each other, his eyes asking for a kiss, and her eyes screaming their permission. Their lips met just as they did years go, timidly with delicacy and filled with the tenderness their hearts held.

They hesitantly pulled away and trembled at the loss of contact. She withheld the urge to jump for joy. "Your magic is till intact?" she asked, worried she might have broken the spell he needed so badly right now.

"Yes, in this world we don't have to worry," he said. "Although there is magic now, my body is still one of a mere human. There is not a curse to break."

"Oh," she said, for once at a loss of words with him.

He pulled away from her and grabbed her hand. "Let's get you some clothes. As beautiful as you are, those clothes do nothing for you."

She fake pouted and intertwined her fingers with his as she let him guide her through the strange world.

-/-/-

As they walked out of the forest, the small town came into sight. It looked like the villages he saw after an attack by ogres. His face remained expressionless, and he could feel Belle looking at him with her always-inquisitive eyes.

"It's ironic that true love is able to cause so much destruction," he said as he led her along the lonely street that led back into the small town. He felt so much stronger having her near him now.

"Your living room was a mess when I left it, so you should've known it already."

Regret flashed through his body. "That was the product of anger Belle." He hit his cane harder against the pavement as he walked.

She stopped walking, making him stop. He looked at her. "I didn't betray you Rumplestiltskin. You know that, right?"

He swallowed hard, the pain in her face hurting him worse than anything could, and her bravery amazing him at the same time. "Yes, I know. Everything that happened to you is my fault, and I hope you can forgive me someday."

"We both have some part of the blame, but now we are here together. That's what matters. When this is over, maybe we can have a happy ending if we desire one. Being locked up for so long made me think about many things. You don't have to fear anything because I forgave you long long ago. Just not myself. I shouldn't have-"

"Forgive yourself Belle, because I don't hold a grudge against you."

"I will try if you do the same," she said.

He shook his head. "It's not easy to forget I was a beast."

"No, being a beast has nothing to do with forgiveness. You're just complex."

"Layered?" he asked, smiling with a half smile.

"Layered."

-/-/-

The small bell above the door tinkled happily when they entered the pawnshop. The blinds were still drawn on the windows, letting the darkness reign over the place filled with old memories. It reminded her of the dimly lit parts of the dark castle where Rumplestiltskin placed the objects he attained through his agreements. This room, however, was small in comparison, but that didn't make this place any less value-filled.

Belle slowly navigated her way around the shelves, crystal tables and glass cases, as she followed Rumplestiltskin to the back room where she'd found him the night before. That was when she couldn't remember anything, good or bad. Rumplestiltskin's face of astonishment now made so much sense. Her imprisonment, the lies she'd been forced to listen to, the despair at seeing her beloved in anguish through the queen's mirrors, had a lasting effect on her. She'd never forget his cry of pain echoing in her ears night after night. She closed her eyes, desperately wanting to take his hand just to make sure he was alive and safe.

The memories were torture.

She watched as he searched through the drawers in a chest he had in his office, as if desperate for something he needed to find. Sometimes she knew she made him believe he could have a happy ending, and now that things were different, he was willing to get one for her.

Rumplestiltskin continued searching. He must have felt her questioning aura because he said, "I'm trying to find your clothing." She laughed to herself. Perhaps it would be better if he conjured the clothing so they didn't have to go from one place to another.

She walked behind him and her arms encircled his body. He didn't stop his movements until he held one of Belle's old dresses in his hands.

Rumplestiltskin looked over his shoulder.

"I heard you," she whispered. He tilted his face.

"What do you mean?"

"I heard you when the queen said I died."

Rumplestiltskin's body tensed. He clinched his teeth and she heard a low growl. She moved her hands over his stomach, tickling him. He exhaled deeply and let a tiny smile come to his lips. Rumplestiltskin dropped the clothes he had in his hands and took her hands.

"No one is going to take you away from me. If anyone touches you, I will not feel the smallest amount of guilt for what happens to them."

"Rumplestiltskin, I know how to take care of myself."

He huffed to hide a laugh, an action that made her take one of his locks of hair and pull it to shut him up. "Just why are you laughing?"

He stifled a groan and stared at her with his clever eyes. "Oh yes, I forgot you have a gift for taming beasts," he replied jokingly and turned around to face her.

She muttered at hearing him use that absurd word as a descriptor. "I will try not to approach ostentatious carriages with darkly dressed queens inside."

"You're going to make things difficult for me, aren't you?"

"You know how I am." She broke contact between their bodies and looked at the clothing he'd been rummaging through. "Why are my clothes in this world?"

He stood beside her. "It's part of the curs-" The jingle of the bell at the door cut off his words. Before she could speak, he placed a finger on her lips so she'd remain silent.

He grabbed his cane and limped elegantly towards the front of the shop. He stopped in the doorframe, watching the intruder and blocking Belle from the view of prying eyes.

"Ah, I wondered where you were," said the voice of the woman who destroyed so many lives. "I didn't think you'd continue this facade of yours. Surely you've noticed that woman has made everyone remember."

"Your Highness, coming here is a reckless thing, don't you think? Shouldn't you find a safe place to hide from your imminent capture?"

"Those idiots can't do anything to me. The magic is back. I feel it running through my veins. Don't you?" she asked and smiled loftily.

"If you've come here to kill time, you should leave. I have much to do"

"Don't be sullen, Rumple. I wanted to make a deal with you like old times."

"I won't make any deals with you your Majesty" he replied with his face strained with rage. "Leave."

"The magic has gone bad on you, Rumple. It's normal since it came so suddenly-"

"I should dismember you!" He moved menacingly towards the woman who still held a smile of joy and superiority. "But you caught me in a good mood, so get out of here...please."

The woman stopped smiling and a murderous look formed in her eyes. Magic forced her feet to move.

"Ah, and your majesty. The next time you cross paths with me, don't expect to get out unharmed," he said with a grim smile as she headed toward the door, accompanied by an unusual trembling in her legs.

With the sharpness of a hawk, Rumplestiltskin monitored her every step until her presence vanished from his territory. He clenched his fists. Belle walked up to him.

"Let's go home," she whispered as she unfolded one of his trembling fists and entangled his fingers with hers. He blinked a few times before his eyes focused on her.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded. He squeezed her hand gently. "I'm fine, just a little dazed. I didn't expect to see her so soon," she said without hesitation. She lifted her arm, which was holding one of her dresses. "I'll be better when we get home."

Without waiting another minute, they left the shop and journeyed through the deserted city, their hands still entwined.

AN: Thanks to my lovely Moon who made this possible. Hope you enjoyed and if you have time you can tell me what you think.
Fandom: Once Upon a time.
Pairing: Rumplestiltskin/Belle
Disclaimer: Characters aren't mine, they belong to their owners.
Sumary: Rumplestiltskin completes a step in his plan, bringing back magic, but now there are some truths that need to be revealed. How will these truths affect his most important relationship? Spoilers 1x22

AN: This can be considered a sequel to Ripped Hearts because there are some references.

PS: Thanks moonie for make the image ;)
You can also read it on fanfiction: [link]
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The weather had been awful the previous day. The ground was still muddy and soggy, mushy from the hard downpour the thunderstorm had let loose upon Konoha. The winds had managed to uproot several electricity poles throughout the city, and tree limbs dotted the streets like decorations.

So it was with great difficulty that Hinata managed to maneuver her way through the wreckage to
School.

The only happy ones about this are the plants, Hinata thought somewhat begrudgingly. It was no easy feat, getting around numerous fallen branches and splashing through tons of puddles. Hinata's feet were soaked, and as she parked her bike  y the side of the school and walked in, they squished and squelched against the ground with every step she took. And she took a lot of steps. Because, you know, short people need to.

Hinata, needless to say, was not in the most pleasant of moods that morning.

But once she walked inside the building, she felt her edginess ease slightly. The almost-regal appearance of the interior of the school -- high, Roman columns extending from floor to ceiling, newly-polished tiles, sleek, glass frames holding trophies and posters -- brought with it a sense of calm, despite the noise of hundreds of students echoing down the hallways and up the staircases. Hinata inhaled deeply, enjoying the moment, and then walked to find her locker, her feet squilching unceremoniously against the floor as she went.
It was after she had put her things away and gathered her materials for first period that the intercom clicked on.

"Hinata Hyuuga, please come to the office."

Hinata frowned.

What...? She did not finish her thought, instead heading to the office.

Shizune, the secretary, waved her into the Principal's office, where Tsunade sat at her desk among piles of paper.

"Jiraiya tells me you haven't signed up for a booth for the Spring Fling yet."

Tsunade always was rather to-the-point. Hinata blinked, then swallowed. She had hoped no one would notice that she hadn' bothered to fill her name in on the sign-up sheets passes around in classes and during extra-curriculars...

"I--" she began. Tsunade raised a finger, effectively silencing her.

"This is serious! You do realize the Spring Fling is tomorrow? You've had two months now to have signed up, so there are no excuses," said the Principal. "Every student is expected to contribute in some way by volunteering their services. You are not an exception, Miss Hyuuga." Tsunade pulled  paper down from th top of one of the piles on her desk. Hinata caught a quixk glance at it as she did so, and realized it was a sign-up sheet. "Jiraiya has informed me that the Farmers of America club booth has extra slots."

Hinata felt her stomach drop.

"Ah, I don't thin--"

"You are a member of Farmers of America, are you not?" asked Teunade sharply, cutting Hinata off easily.

Hinata gulped and nodded slowly.

Darn you, Naruto! Hinata thought. I'm only a member because you joined that stupid club!

"Then it's settled," said Tsunade, lifting a pen and scribbling Hinata's name on the sign-up sheet.

Hinata blanched.

"Y-you want me to...?"

Tsunade nodded.

"Hinata," she said, "You're taking the first shift for the kissing booth."

--

To say that Hinata was upset was an understatement. In fact, she was utterly livid, but she knew better than to argue with the Principal. She wen through the rest of the day in a haze of anger and increasing dread.

She was going to do the Kissing Booth.

Ki. Ssing. Booth.

As in, a booth for kissing. She was going to have to kiss. She was going to have to kiss BOYS. Maybe girls, too, but she didn't want to think about that.

This was possibly the worst thing that could ever have happened to her. Even worse than when that one pig bit her hand. She cursed her involvement in her after-school farming club yet again.

Why couldn't Naruto have joined something normal like soccer or debate or something? she wailed to herself. She knew the answer, of course: He wasn't into those kinds of things. He was different.

And how she hated him for it. Right now, anyway.

The next day was Saturday. As soon as she woke up, Hinata let out a moan and turned to her alarm clock.

She had three hours until the booth opened.

She spent the first hour and a half getting ready: she showered, she ate, she did her hair, she painstakingly applied makeup (which she exclusively reserved for special and/or desperate situations; Hinata figured the latter applied) and she attempted to convince Neji to trade booths (it didn't work).

Then she hopped on her bike and made the journey to school, the butterflies in her stomach growing.

When she arrived at school, it was like an entirely different place. Moonwalks were EVERYWHERE, as were discarded shoes; intoxicating food smells mingled together as she walked through the crowds of people, making her mouth water longingly. Students manning game booths and shops yelled into the crowds, advertising amazing prizes and amazing prices. Hinata caught sight of Kiba sitting aloft a dunking booth, taunting those trying to knock him in; she couldn't help but smile when she notices he was already dripping wet. She saw Ino weaving a crown of flowers for a little girl who sat excitedly in a chair beside the blonde. Even Shikamaru was doing his part: he watched over a game of shoji, clearly acting as a judge.  In the sky, kites were flying, balloons were swishing, and decorative lanterns were hanging.

Hinata's yes landed on Jiraiya, who was waving her down. She slowly walked towards him.

"Ah!" said the older man. "You're early! That's great, it means we can open up early!" Jiraiya grinned at her, unaware of Hinata's nervousness.

"I-I don't really feel comfortable doing this..." Hinata mumbled. Jiraiya waved his hand dismissively at her.

"Then don't do it next year," he said. "Follow me!"

Hinata would have made a break for it had her teacher not put an arm on her shoulder, guiding her to a nearby booth. It was decked out in bright colors, and a big, gaudy pair of lips sat atop the booth's roof. Jiraiya pointed to the stool inside.

"You just sit there and peck people, it's real simple. Just take their tickets and put em in the box by your feet." He led her inside and gestured; a simple wooden box sat below the desk-like structure of the booth. "No ticket, no kiss! Be sure to smile and thank them for coming!" With that, Jiraiya strode off, leaving a stammering and blushing Hinata behind.

She HATED that man.

But not as much as she hated her life at the moment.

She hesitantly slid onto the stool, nervously placing her hands on her lap.

Please, God, she prayed silently, Don't let any old men or creepy perverts come here!

Hinata sat like that for a good five minutes. She was almost relieved, but she knew it was probably only this way because no one had noticed the stall was open.

Sure enough, a freshman approached shortly after, his friends teasingly pushing him forward. Hinata felt her heart leap; he was holding a ticket!

She tried not to panic.

I don't want to kiss anyone! I still haven't had my first kiss yet, and I DON'T want to lose it to some fish who--

"Hey," said the kid, raising a hand and waving. Hinata, flustered as she was, managed to return the gesture. She plastered a smile onto her face.

"H-hello," she said.

"Look, here's the deal," said the kid, leaning onto the desk; Hinata instinctively leaned back in her stool. "My friends are too chicken to ask, but is it possible to reserve a kiss?"

Hinata blushed.

"Uh-Uhm," she began. "I..." She shook her head. "I don't think so."

The kid laughed.

"Okay, thanks!" he said. "I was asking for a friend, is all."

Hinata doubted this, but said nothing as the boy retreated to his two giggling friends and tromped off.

"What, no line?"

Hinata started. She turned and saw a grinning Naruto, who had pink glitter in his hair for some inexplicable reason. She blushed.

"I-I didn't even sign up for this..." she mumbled, and then let out a frustrated squeal. "I don't wanna do this!"

Naruto frowned.

"It's just a kiss," he said. He smirked mischievously. "And you know you can cheat, right?"

Hinata looked up at him, curious.

"Oh? How so?"

Naruto slid a ticket onto the desk.

"I'll demonstrate," he said. "I'll be the big, ugly pervert, and you can be you." Naruto cleared his throat, then spoke in a raspy voice. "Pucker up, pretty little girl!" He sucked in his cheeks and stuck out his lips, making kissing sounds, and Hinata laughed.

"S-So how do I g-get out of k-k-kissing you?" she asked.

"Turn at the last minute and make him kiss your cheek!" said Naruto excitedly. "Then send him off!"

Hinata's eyes widened.

"B-But I thought had to actually KISS pe-people," she said, pressing her fingers together nervously.

"Not if you don't wanna!" replied Naruto. "But kissing on the cheek is fine, right?" he asked. He leaned closer. "Try it!" he said, turning his face. Hinata could see the whisker marks on his cheeks.

She felt her face flush and quickly pecked him, then put her face in her hands.

"Th-that was em-embarrassing!" she cried. Naruto patted her head reassuringly.

"Aw, I'm not THAT bad-looking," he said jokingly. "Besides, you did it, didn't you? So now you can do that for everyone!"

Hinata looked up to thank him, but he was already running off somewhere else. He seemed to be in a hurry.

Pribably to see Sakura wherever she's at, she thought somewhat bitterly. She had no problem with Sakura, but she knew Naruto liked her. Had, anyway. According to Ino, who was gossip central, Naruto had told Sasuke that he only loved Sakura as a friend these days. Hinata doubted this, however; it wasn't that easy to just stop loving someone and move on.

She was brought out of her reverie by Kiba, who approached waving a ticket.

"So do I get a picture, too?" he asked teasingly, handing her the ticket. His hair was still wet; he must have just finished his shift at the dunking booth. Hinata shook her head, taking Kiba's and Naruto's tickets and dropping them in the little bucket.

"Just a kiss," she said. Kiba grinned at her.

"I would feel bad about making you do this, but the look on your face when you saw me holding that ticket was priceless," explained Kiba. "All right, smoochie-smoochie time!"

Hinata leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

"Smoochie-smoochie," she said, smiling innocently at her friend. He blinked a few times, then howled in laughter.

"HINATA, YOU'RE HILARIOUS!" he yelled. "Wow, what a con artist!" He grinned again. "I LOVE IT!!! You're gonna disappoint a lot of guys!"

Hinata shrugged, blushing a bit.

"I don't want to kiss people for real..." she murmured. Kiba heard her and shrugged, still grinning.

"Hey, it's all good," he said. "No one's gonna hold it against you." He looked over his shoulder. Then raised an eyebrow. "So anyway, I'll see ya when you're done. I'm holding up the line!"

Hinata paled as Kiba walked off.

There WAS A line. A VERY long line. Consisting of many of her male classmates. She inwardly groaned, but outwardly smiled and waved them forward.

And so it was that she spent the next hour kissing young men on the cheeks and giggling at the more surprised and affronted faces.

--

Hinata waved to Choji, who waved back as he retreated into the crowds. So far, everything had gone well; her shift was almost over, and she still hadn't had a first kiss yet! She had never been more relieved in her life.

She looked up and saw the freshman and his friends standing near the booth again. She waved and tentatively motioned for them to come near. The boy who she had spoken to earlier approached.

"We're not in line," he said, "Just waiting for our friend to show up."

"Is he working a booth?" asked Hinata. The boy shook his head.

"No," he replied. "His shift was earlier. He worked the Princess booth."

Hinata had to wonder what boy in his right mind would sign up for something so flagrantly girly.

"Well," she said, "If he wants a kiss, he needs to show up soon." She glanced at the watch on her wrist. "Im done here in five minutes."

At that moment, a group of sophomore boys approached for kisses, and as she was occupied, Hinata did not keep track of the freshman and his friends.

When she had dealt with the sophomores and sent them on their way, she continued speaking.

"He's actually got about a minute now."

"Who does?"

Hinata's eyes widened, and she glanced up to see Naruto smiling at her.

"O-oh," she stammered. "A freshman wa-was saving a spot in l-line for his friend, but he didn't show... A-And my shift is nearly over."

Naruto's smile grew.

"You mean Konohamaru?" asked Naruto. "Nah, he was just holding onto a ticket for me so I wouldn't accidentally spend 'em all."

Hinata blinked.

"I... I don't follow..." she said. Naruto scratched the back of his neck.

"I'm the friend he was waiting for," he said.

Ah. That explained the glitter, then.

Hinata felt... Well, she couldn't even describe what she felt... It was a mixture of the walking-on-air feeling and the I-feel-like-a-piece-of-poo feeling: Naruto had been saving a ticket to use at her booth, but Naruto wanted a kiss!!! The thought both scared her and made her want to burst out in a happy song.

It didn't help that she realized she had unknowingly insulted his manliness just a short while ago.

Naruto slid the ticket his friend had saved for him onto the booth's desk.

"So... Pucker up!" he said jokingly.

She didn't know why she did it. It was almost like the puppet theory, as if she had no control over it, but it happened.

She leaned forward and missed him.

On the lips.

For several moments.

She had closed her eyes, but she was sure he wore a surprised expression. She felt like slapping herself, and quickly pulled away, ducking her head, eyes wide and trained on her fingers, which were for once not twiddling.

"Sorry," she blurted out. She felt her eyes watering. Why had she done something so stupid?! Now he would hate her, and oh God, he would HATE her--

"...Wow."

Well. She had expected something along the lines of "Aaaah!" and "WHAT THE HELL," not "Wow." Was "Wow" even a good thing? It was definitely unexpected, so that probably meant it was a bad thing. Great. Just great.

"Sorry," she whispered, feeling a tear slide down her cheek. This was it. She knew it. He would never look at her again. She wouldn't blame him. After all, she had--

Something brushed her tear away. It took a moment to register that it was a finger. She felt herself trembling, and slowly lifted her chin.

Naruto was staring straight at her, concern written all over his face.

"Was it really that bad?" he asked, wiping more tears away; she hadn't felt them fall, but now they were streaming down her face.

"I..."

He grinned and leaned in, kissing her.

It caught her completely unawares, and she was stunned for a moment before she melted. Into a pile of goo.

Naruto was kissing her.

Naruto was kissing her.

NARUTO WAS KISSING HER!!!

She kissed back.

After a few moments, they pulled apart.  Hinata wiped her tears away, cursing her darned emotionalness, and then looked up at Naruto.

He was beaming.

She smiled back.

"Oops," she said sheepishly. "I wasn't supposed t-to give any freebies."

Naruto smirked.

"You didn't," he replied. "Your shift's over."

"Oh," she responded. She silently dismounted from the stool and left the booth, joining Naruto.

He grinned mischievously and grabbed her hand, pulling her in for a hug.

After a sharp intake of breath, Hinata relaxed, hugging him back.

In her peripheral, she saw Kiba approaching.

"Whoa!" yelled her friend. "Get a room, you two!"

Hinata blushed and pulled out of Naruto's arms hastily. The blonde pouted.

"Way to ruin the mood, Kiba," he grumbled. Hinata giggled euphorically.

"It's fine," she said. Naruto shrugged, then turned excitedly to her.

"Have you grabbed anything to eat yet?" he asked. "'Cuz I haven't!"

Hinata shook her head.

"Then let's go!" said Naruto. He pulled her along with him, and smiling, she followed.

Thank you, God, for kissing booths!
For the Individual Challenge, NaruFest, Week 5.

:iconnaruto-artists::iconthehiddengemvillage:


Hard work to write, and I'm not all that pleased with how it turned out, but hopefully it's good enough to move on to the next rounds ^^

Naruto, Hinata, etc. cc Masashi Kishimoto
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