francis x arthur


Titanic, Hetalia ships

Real Me - FrUK

New year, new me.

It’s what Arthur told himself as he watched the clock on the wall tick endlessly closer to the new year.

New year, the real me.

He was tired of hiding. He’d been hiding his whole life. Well, maybe that’s not entirely true, but at least since eighth grade. He was twenty-two now, and sick of hiding.

“Staring the clock down will not change its speed, mon ami, surly you know that.”

Francis hadn’t left his side the entire night, and it was entirely annoying. He mixed and mingled yes, that was his thing after all, but he hovered just within Arthur’s bubble. What an absolute pest.

“I know that you stupid git.” The Brit pulled his eyes away. Francis was standing even closer than he had been. “Sod off, you’re suffocating me frog.”

But of course he didn’t. Francis never seemed to do as he was told. It was a wonder why people liked him so much, really.

“Could it be that you are nervous for the new year?”

The Frenchman smirked that infuriating smirk he had. The one that was the picture of all that was innocent and yet made Arthur want to punch him with all his might.

“I’m not nervous.” He said with a rush. “Anxious would be the proper word.”

And he was terribly anxious. He glanced back at the clock. Two minutes to midnight.

“Relax Arthur! The new year holds so many glorious possibilities just waiting to be realized! Here,” He handed the Brit his glass. “Champagne, drink. Loosen up.”

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows, he had been avoiding alcohol the whole night for reasons. Good reasons. Reasons having to do with his reputation.

But that reputation was about to be altered drastically. He glanced again. one minute to midnight, seconds most likely.

He sighed, to hell with it. He downed the drink in a single gulp, much to Francis’ amusement. The Frenchman chuckled.

“There’s the Arthur I know.”

The din of the rest of the party began to rise, counting down as the seconds ticked away.

“That, my friend, was an Arthur you will never truly know again.” He informed, setting the empty glass aside.“


"Oh, is that so?”


“It is, for a matter of fact.”


“Am I going to like a new Arthur? I’m quite fond of the one I know.”


“I think you will, not that I care.”


But of course he cares. He cares more than he would ever let on. With a light buzz on his mind and determination on his lips, this is the years he plans to show just how much he actually gives a damn.

It’s a pleasant surprise for Francis as well.

Pulling away, Arthur realizes that he actually did it. The frog is smiling at him, the rest of the party is none the wiser, and Arthur wants to punch that infuriating grin right off of Francis’ face.

After he kisses him again.

An Awesome Idea [Fanfiction]

An Awesome Idea

”What are you doing here, bloody frog?”

Francis raised his look from the book he was reading and leaned comfortably back on Arthur’s couch in Arthur’s living-room, saying nothing.

“And how did you get in?”

The only answer Arthur got was a smirk on the Frenchman’s smug face.

Arthur took his coat off, looking a little irritated. He had most likely had a long day at work. ”You are quiet. How unlike you”, he said with a sharp voice, looking ready to pick a fight. “What are you doing here anyway?”

This time he got an answer –sort of.

“I made some coffee.”

“I hate coffee.”

“Well, who said I made it for you, mon Anglais? I made it for myself.”

Seeing Arthur’s stunned face Francis couldn’t help laughing.

“GET OUT you fucking BASTARD!”

“How can you say such a cruel thing?” Francis asked putting his hand on his chest with dramatic face. “I came here just to see you, mon cher.”

“Well, now you have seen me. Get out.” Arthur’s voice was strict but his face was very adorably turning red. The other blonde saw it, too, and all of them knew that Arthur wasn’t able to stand up to Francis.

“I would, mon Anglais, but now when I’m seeing you…” The Frenchman got to his feet, stepping towards Arthur. “…I find that it’s not enough.”

The Brit’s face turned deep scarlet, now none of the irritation left on it. He tried to give an intelligent answer but all he could say was a nervous ‘w-what’.

“I’ll show you what.” Francis’ voice was little harsh and casted shivers through Arthur’s body. He still tried to say something -something- but his mind seemed to be cut off so he could do nothing but step back each time the Frenchman stepped forward.

That was, until he felt the cold wall behind his back.

“F-francis”, he said, a haw a little spoiling the warning tone in his voice when the taller man came close, navy eyes meeting the emerald ones.

“I love to see your face like that, Arthur”, Francis leaned to whisper his ear, making him try to press more against the wall. He tried to push the Frenchman away, weakly though, but he grabbed his wrists, pinning him to the wall.


Francis leaned closer to Arthur again in order to kiss him. The Brit closed his eyes and turned his face a little to Francis’, who enjoyed how the smaller man was waiting -and wanting- to be kissed. But just before their lips could touch the Frenchman halted. In a moment Arthur opened his eyes, looking embarrassed and guilty, as if he had just caught himself at doing something forbidden.

“You want me to kiss you, don’t you?” Francis said lips still inches from Arthur’s.

“Fuck off, frog! Like I would-“

The Frenchman grinned and pushed his knee between Arthur’s legs, gaining a delicious, surprised moan from him.

He wanted to hear more of those moans.

Arthur gasped sharply when Francis pressed himself against his body, close, close, even closer, rubbing his hips with his owns. A betraying voise of pleasure escaped the Brit’s lips and ashamed he tried to wriggle away from the Frenchman’s grip.

“The way you move is just wonderful, Arthur”, Francis said with pure amusement in his voice. Arthur stopped immediately his efforts to free himself and pushed himself as close to the wall as possible, though he knew it wouldn’t take him any further from Francis – he just couldn’t admit himself that all he wanted to do was leaning into the Frenchman, not the wall.

Arthur tried and failed to maintain the rest of his dignity when pleasant, nervous warmth wormed in his stomach as the taller blonde’s lips brushed slightly his ear.

But nothing more. Just light touches, almost too light to feel. The blue eyes were looking at him, enjoying of the vision of frustrated and embarrassed Englishman, eyes twinkling amused. Francis was just toying with him.

Arthur’s whole body yearned for the Frenchman’s touch, but those light, too light brushes were not enough; they were just making him want more.

“What do you think you are doing, frog?” Just kiss me already.

Francis smirked and before he knew Arthur found himself lying on his stomach, face facing the floor, wrists still being held by the Frenchman. “I’m just having a bit fun, mon Cher.

The Brit heard his chuckle and swore silently, hiding his blushing face. He was sure that the French bastard knew how he was longing for his touch. Oh yes, certainly he did know and without doubt he was enjoying the situation.

“You bastard”, Arthur hissed, trying to keep his voice steady. The other man answered with laughter.

Francis released one of the Brit’s hands, running his fingers up across his arm. Arthur swallowed hard and squirmed when the Frenchman did the same to the other arm. He tried to turn or sit but his hips were captured between Francis’ knees and the strong hands didn’t allow him to get up. He shuddered as hot lips brushed his nape of the neck so lightly that he couldn’t almost feel them, moving to his ear.

“Francis, s-stop!”

Skilful fingers danced around Arthur’s upper body and the light touch left him frustrated, made him moan wantingly even though he tried not to.

“Francis, please…” he groaned breathlessly. Stop teasing me.

Lips found his ear, biting it gently. The fingers were exploring his chest, undoing the buttons of his shirt, his stomach, his sides, his abdomen, but not going any lower than that. Arthur’s whole body was trembling and he was panting and moaning and swearing in the Frenchman’s touch.

“Stop it already, F-francis! I’m serious, please stop, Francis, please!”

“Stop what?” Francis whispered in his ear, hot breathe caressing his sensitive skin.

“Stop teasing me!” the Englishman pleaded, throwing the last of his pride away (though he didn’t really have much to throw away). “I can’t-”

And suddenly he was turned on his back, finding Francis’ amused face inches from his own, blue eyes twinkling.

“Oh Arthur”, he said harshly, looking down at the Brit’s desperate face. “I love to see you like that…”

“Shut up, you-” Arthur began but was silenced with -finally- a kiss. He gasped and Francis took the advantage to slide his tongue in the Brit’s mouth. Groaning Arthur wrapped his arms around the Frenchman’s neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. Moaning and wriggling when skilled hands travelled on his body, groping, massaging his most sensitive parts.

When Francis pulled back to breathe they were both panting heavily, looking at each other like challenging the other one for more.

Je t’aime.” Sweet words were whispered when the Frenchman leaned to place a short kiss on Arthur’s lips, then went on kissing his jaw line. Arthur closed his eyes. I love you too. His hands were tugging Francis’ hair out of the ponytail, moving around his back as the Frenchman was kissing and biting and licking his neck, moving lower down to his chest.

“I hate you”, the Brit whispered, pulling the man he was in love with even closer, feeling him grinning against his skin between the kisses.

They all knew that Arthur was lying. They all knew that he loved Francis and was loved back.

Arthur knew it.

Francis knew it.

And Elizaveta knew it. She switched off her TV and took the tape out of the tape recorder. She would have to thank Gilbert later for giving her this awesome idea and hiding her camera in Arthur’s house.

Her heart still flapping a little, Elizaveta sighed happily. Francis and Arthur were obviously meant to be together, she thought as she added the tape to her collections.

Too bad Gilbert couldn’t hide the camera in Arthur’s bedroom.


Aph Headcanon #1

It’s the Fourth of July, and Alfred has invited all of the nations to come over to his place so they can see the Statue of Liberty…

Arthur is noticeably upset.

In order to make him feel better, Francis leans over and reveals that he was the original model for the statue.

Meanwhile, Alfred is going on about how beautiful ‘her’ face is…

Arthur immediately loses it and starts hysterically laughing.