[Fanfiction] Appreciation: Demonstrations thereof
Title: Appreciation: Demonstrations thereof
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Genre(s): Historical/Humor
Character(s)|Pairing(s): France, Prussia, Old Fritz
Rating/Warning(s): R, language, dubious humor, and France... being France
Word Count: 617
Summary: France’s official introduction to the newly crowned man who will become Frederick the Great. Let the facepalming and diplomatic incidents ensue.
France smiled pleasantly when King Frederick turned his attentions fully to him. He submitted to the cool, calm assessment and even preened a little in it. Despite the king’s controlled air, he had just the smallest, slightest hint of- trepidation? Admiration? Perhaps a strange mixture of both. It made France preen all the more and wish that he had worn his peacock feather trimmed hat for the day, if only to make the image better.
Frederick II tilted his head slightly and said in exquisite French that made France almost writhe on the spot, “A pleasure to meet you, Monsieur.” Glorious.
“Your command of my tongue is unmatched, and I say this with greatest sincerity. Better than my own knowledge of German,” replied France smoothly in the same tongue.
The man’s narrow lips twisted in a wry smile. “It is a match for my own command, likely,” he said. But his expression became marginally warmer and it made him handsome, not just interesting.
Yes, interesting, because France was used to a glittering Court in Versailles that hosted the most beautiful women and men in all of Europe, like a glorious aviary filled with the rarest specimens, a hothouse of blooms. The King of Prussia would be too grim, too odd in that place, compared to those beauties. But that was his charm, in the passions that gleamed behind those deep-set eyes, the crackling, lightning fast wit-
“I could love you just for that, your Majesty,” said France playfully, letting blood rush to his cheeks in an undoubtedly charming way. It was all about the careful balance… and looking upwards shyly through long eyelashes.
The King arched his eyebrows and chuckled. “A strange sentiment.”
France shrugged elegantly. “But sincere.”
“I will need some more physical assurance then, Monsieur.”
“Oh, I can promise that.” And France leaned in, happy in the knowledge that Prussia was currently occupied across the room. He let the delicate but alluring scent of his perfume, roses and musk and citrus peel wrap around the king’s senses like a silk veil.
The King retained his faint, sardonic smile but even he would have to succumb. The slightest blush crossed his face, rosiest on his pronounced ears. It made him all the more attractive, really.
France’s gloved hand reached out, quick as a serpent, and under the flap and tail of the king’s coat. He didn’t so much rest his hand upon a buttock as he grabbed it, as if seizing a ripe, full fruit. Ah- just as he suspected. A good regimen of equestrian arts really did wonders-
“What the fuck are you doing!” came the raucous, outraged shriek that broke sound barriers. All conversation in the room skidded to a halt and multiple heads swiveled to the scene.
France looked up, perfectly unperturbed at least in expression. “Giving my greetings?” he said lightly.
Prussia all but flew over the room, seizing France by the back of the neck. “Hands off, fucking pervert!” He kept an almost bone crushing grip on his fellow country, before casting a worried look at his king. “Oi, are you all right? Did he do anything else?” He looked far too torn between dragging France out of the room and fussing like a mother hen over his somewhat ruffled, still slightly shocked monarch.
“Only my dignity was at stake,” Frederick replied dryly. “You would know that too well.” He shifted upon his feet just the slightest bit uncomfortably, now standing with legs together. The expression he now favored France with had nothing to do with faintly nervous awe.
France only smiled and made a bow. It really was worth getting thrown out a second story window a few moments later.
ooc: Fuck, I just plain fail at humor. -facepalm-
By the way, Old Fritz does mention getting groped by France. Here: http://aph.starry-sky.com/7_s.html
I was particularly inspired by the fact that Old Fritz’s primary language was in fact French, not German. He had a fondness for French things, though I rather think he had to rethink that view after meeting the personification of France.
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Genre(s): Historical/Humor
Character(s)|Pairing(s): France, Prussia, Old Fritz
Rating/Warning(s): R, language, dubious humor, and France... being France
Word Count: 617
Summary: France’s official introduction to the newly crowned man who will become Frederick the Great. Let the facepalming and diplomatic incidents ensue.
France smiled pleasantly when King Frederick turned his attentions fully to him. He submitted to the cool, calm assessment and even preened a little in it. Despite the king’s controlled air, he had just the smallest, slightest hint of- trepidation? Admiration? Perhaps a strange mixture of both. It made France preen all the more and wish that he had worn his peacock feather trimmed hat for the day, if only to make the image better.
Frederick II tilted his head slightly and said in exquisite French that made France almost writhe on the spot, “A pleasure to meet you, Monsieur.” Glorious.
“Your command of my tongue is unmatched, and I say this with greatest sincerity. Better than my own knowledge of German,” replied France smoothly in the same tongue.
The man’s narrow lips twisted in a wry smile. “It is a match for my own command, likely,” he said. But his expression became marginally warmer and it made him handsome, not just interesting.
Yes, interesting, because France was used to a glittering Court in Versailles that hosted the most beautiful women and men in all of Europe, like a glorious aviary filled with the rarest specimens, a hothouse of blooms. The King of Prussia would be too grim, too odd in that place, compared to those beauties. But that was his charm, in the passions that gleamed behind those deep-set eyes, the crackling, lightning fast wit-
“I could love you just for that, your Majesty,” said France playfully, letting blood rush to his cheeks in an undoubtedly charming way. It was all about the careful balance… and looking upwards shyly through long eyelashes.
The King arched his eyebrows and chuckled. “A strange sentiment.”
France shrugged elegantly. “But sincere.”
“I will need some more physical assurance then, Monsieur.”
“Oh, I can promise that.” And France leaned in, happy in the knowledge that Prussia was currently occupied across the room. He let the delicate but alluring scent of his perfume, roses and musk and citrus peel wrap around the king’s senses like a silk veil.
The King retained his faint, sardonic smile but even he would have to succumb. The slightest blush crossed his face, rosiest on his pronounced ears. It made him all the more attractive, really.
France’s gloved hand reached out, quick as a serpent, and under the flap and tail of the king’s coat. He didn’t so much rest his hand upon a buttock as he grabbed it, as if seizing a ripe, full fruit. Ah- just as he suspected. A good regimen of equestrian arts really did wonders-
“What the fuck are you doing!” came the raucous, outraged shriek that broke sound barriers. All conversation in the room skidded to a halt and multiple heads swiveled to the scene.
France looked up, perfectly unperturbed at least in expression. “Giving my greetings?” he said lightly.
Prussia all but flew over the room, seizing France by the back of the neck. “Hands off, fucking pervert!” He kept an almost bone crushing grip on his fellow country, before casting a worried look at his king. “Oi, are you all right? Did he do anything else?” He looked far too torn between dragging France out of the room and fussing like a mother hen over his somewhat ruffled, still slightly shocked monarch.
“Only my dignity was at stake,” Frederick replied dryly. “You would know that too well.” He shifted upon his feet just the slightest bit uncomfortably, now standing with legs together. The expression he now favored France with had nothing to do with faintly nervous awe.
France only smiled and made a bow. It really was worth getting thrown out a second story window a few moments later.
ooc: Fuck, I just plain fail at humor. -facepalm-
By the way, Old Fritz does mention getting groped by France. Here: http://aph.starry-sky.com/7_s.html
I was particularly inspired by the fact that Old Fritz’s primary language was in fact French, not German. He had a fondness for French things, though I rather think he had to rethink that view after meeting the personification of France.