SO HAPPY UR REQUESTS R OPEN 🥹🥹🥹 could you maybe do both 1p and 2p Italy with a sweet and kind and gentle reader partner?? Take your time ^_^
Hi hi! Sure thing. I finished 2P Italy faster and more easily than Italy himself, lol.
-
Italy w/ A Gentle Partner
🍝 Match made in heaven. This man absolutely loves to be all up in your personal space to soak up as much affection as you'll give him.
🍝 He feels comfortable around you even during scary moments. Though that means you're the first one he runs to when he gets himself into trouble (and if you can't help then he ends up hiding behind you while Ludwig begrudgingly fixes the problem.)
🍝 He feels at peace just seeing your face after a long day (or a particularly bad day), and always moves to hug you and burry his face into your neck.
🍝 It does make him a little spoiled when you do things like cook for him consistently or help him with chores cause he'll expect it to be a regular occurance.
🍝 He'll call anyone else who tries to take care of your kindness a bastard though. He will physically pull at your arm and wine to get your attention onto him again before convincing you to drop whatever you're doing for someone else.
🍝 He will brag that he's found 'the one' for him when you aren't around. He's head over heels for you and everyone can see it.
2P Italy w/ A Gentle Partner
🗡️ It honestly took him a long time to believe that the sweetness wasn't just an act, but it sunk in after a while. It just makes him overprotective and paranoid when it's not just the two of you alone.
🗡️ He loves you, but he's 100% being a bad influence. He needs you to portray a basic level of cruelty that keeps people in his line of work off your ass. Making you unapproachable also means little to no romantic rivals for him, so it's a win-win.
🗡️ He will teach you how to do a hard stare and glare daggers at people. You'll get a little treat every time you do it at someone other than him, usually something sweet.
🗡️ He really doesn't find it safe to leave you with anyone he doesn't know. He'll have someone tail you when you're out with friends or family just to make sure since he can't always follow you around. There's always one of his men in the room when you're in the same room as a 'client' of his, and in that case he makes what he's doing quick as possible to get back to you.
🗡️ He appreciates the level of patience you have for him when he's being a total asshat. It gets him out of his bad moods faster.
🗡️ He only wants you to be yourself around him, and he's really greedy about it. You're his miracle after all, why would he want to ever share what makes you so perfect for him? (He barely tolerates you being friendly towards your own friends, cause what if they get the wrong message? Everyone thinks differently, he can't predict if someone's going to develop a crush and become a problem for him. It makes his anxiety spike everytime people stare at you for too long.)
The anatomy of the obsessed artist [2p! Italy x reader]
Synopsis: You have the golden opportunity to display your art at a newly opened gallery. Nobody stops to look at your work until an eccentric connoisseur praises it, even asking you if he can buy it. Touched and fascinated by his personality, you agree to meet him over coffee. Now that he’s no stranger, he keeps inviting you over to his lavish estate until he realizes it’s not the art he’s so obsessed with. It’s the artist.
Wordcount: 3, 686
The reader is referred to as she/her.
“Nihilism represented a crude form of positivism and materialism, a revolt against the established social order; it negated all authority exercised by the state, by the church, or by the family.” - Encyclopedia of Britannica
“It's hideous.” He murmured, his eyes narrowed with contempt. They were a hot magenta hue, quick-moving and critical of everything they fixed on. How much he wished to say he was standing back to admire a masterpiece. Tossing his paintbrush into the kitchen sink with a sigh, he sauntered to the couch and plummeted down on it.
A loud clang was heard, but it never fazed his companion, who barely dodged the trajectory of the brush. “Oh, really?” They snorted. “It looks the same as every other painting you've done.”
He whipped his head to him and glared.
“Like you'd have an eye for these things, Lutz.”
Said man gave a shrug. This was probably the hundredth time they had this conversation, so he could practically predict what Luciano was about to say—and how he would wind up listening unwillingly to his passionate spiels.
“Just listen to me speak for once.”
Lutz scoffed and poured himself a hot cup of coffee. “Here we go again...” He grumbled with a distinct droop to his features.
Rolling his head back to the pristine, white ceiling, Luciano threw his hands up in emphasis. “It's the only damn thing that gives this room some color. I need to do better, Lutz. Otherwise, I'll tear this whole place down!” Even then, his animated movements were minuscule compared to the tall walls that surrounded him.
The other sipped on his mug. “If you're so stuck—” He smacked his lips. “—how about going to the new art gallery downtown? Anything to get you to shut up.” Lutz grinned at that, half-expecting him to launch a few throwing knives his way. But he never did. Instead, he jumped up and extended an index to point at him accusingly.
“You think you're so smart, huh, cazzo? Well, I might just go. Just to prove you wrong.” Grabbing his coat hanging over the couch, he threw it on and marched downstairs. As the echoes of his footsteps faded, he gave one final reckoning. “You can't rush art, dumbass! I'll turn the place upside down, and I still won't find anything worth my time.”
The volume of his thoughts had never been so loud. It was the only thing he heard in this quiet institution during its downtime. Nobody was around, save for him, but that allowed him to ramble to himself--whatever he was staring at, it was everything he had been looking for.
“This was definitely worth my time.” He muttered with a pistol grip on his chin. As he scanned over the canvas to take in the brushstrokes, he shook his head. “I hate to think he said something smart for once.” They were so violent, yet so gentle. A unique balance of nihilism and faith. Reaching up to his dark maroon hair, he dug through it and laughed in awe. “This is magnificent. Bellisima!”
“I hope you mean what you say, sir. That means a lot to me.” He turned to the voice ended up gawking at a woman. As he processed the words, he was at a loss for his own.
“Oddio--you don't mean you painted this, do you, signorina?”
She nodded coyly, much to his delight.
“Mhm. The name on the label is mine.”
At the sound of that, he gleamed and took both her hands into his own. “How much?”
She blinked, unsure of whether she heard him correctly. Was he offering to buy her work? “Sorry?”
“How much do you want for your painting? I'll pay you handsomely. One grand. Ten grand. However much you desire! I just need this in my living room. Whatever you ask for, it's a done deal!”
In your short career, you never imagined capturing someone's attention so passionately with your work. Your initial impression of the man was a rich art collector of some kind--an eccentric enthusiast--and not a connoisseur by any means. He even dressed the part, having adorned himself in a loose, silky blouse with a coat tied around his waist. His fashion was flashy and exuded confidence, though nothing else could have suited his personality.
As you talked to him over a coffee, however, it became clear to you he was much more than that.
“I've never seen somebody use color like that! You must've done lots of practice to get that good, eh?” He mused, watching you light up at his praise. There was no denying the sincerity in his voice, so you couldn't help being drawn to him and his zeal. “I'll be honest with you, bella. I'm not letting you run off before we settle on something.”
He could tell from the way you leaned in so subtly, never once breaking your eye contact as you listened to him. And knowing this did wonders--he slowly found himself drawn to you.
“Thank you, Luciano. I'm really flattered, but I can't just sell it to you. It's part of the gallery now.” You smiled gently, curling your fingers around the cup handle. Even as you sipped on your beverage, your gaze on him never faltered. And before you could catch any disappointment on his part, you waved your hands at him.
“I don't mean anything by it, honestly. I'm glad that you understand what I'm trying to say--like, you could've interpreted it completely differently. I wouldn't be able to stop you, either. But the fact that you didn't...” He followed you attentively with those sharp and mysterious orbs, but you were strangely comfortable under his scrutiny.
“Maybe we have similar minds.”
The man had been studying you as you spoke. While he did, this one, singular thought occurred to him. There was nothing in the world he loved more in the world than being heard.
“Hearing you talk is the same as being listened to,” Luciano admitted with a small laugh. Deep inside, he knew Lutz always listened. Unwillingly, that was. But being heard and understood was another story. “You take the words right out of my mouth, bella. I don't know how you do it, but you have to stop reading my mind. It's invasive.” He darted his eyes over your expression that morphed into dumbfoundedness--which served as a prelude for embarrassment.
So he couldn't help but smile flirtatiously. “Take me out to dinner first. Only then will I let you finish my sentences.”
You furrowed your brows together, but his smile was far too contagious to be staved off. The end result was an endearingly stupid face that was a cross between a frown and a grin. “Does lunch count then, you impossible little man? I mean, it's around noon.”
He shook his head, amused. Luciano expected you to pull away, but it seemed like he bit off more than he could chew. You were a handful. He was never a fan of handfuls or really anything that required his energy, but he'd be damned if this was the last time he saw you.
“But seriously, (F/N). I need your paintings. And it doesn't have to be something you've already painted.” Standing up at that, he neared your side lowered himself to your level. He settled a hand on your shoulder, much to your surprise. But you never tried to pull away. “I want you to paint for me at my place. I'll do whatever it takes. I'll drink my weight in this mediocre coffee if I have to.”
With his intoxicating personality, all he needed was a few more espressos to do the convincing.
“I can tell from your taste that you're pretty nihilistic.” You commented with a hint of disbelief. “But this is just crazy! What do you even do for a living?” All the expensive decor and extravagance of his stupidly large mansion must have costed a fortune! Lifting your head to take in the sheer size and height of his living room, you then shot him an incredulous look. “Well? I'm curious.”
Luciano leaned against the couch and folded his arms. “Oh, you don't want to know, trust me.” He grinned devilishly.
“What, are you in the mafia or something?” You joked.
He craned his head from right to left.
“Eh. Something like that.”
You blinked, not expecting him to be so frank. Then, you laughed sheepishly, suddenly feeling as if you've walked right into a trap. “... Are you serious?” The man sensed your uneasiness and walked over promptly. Before you could react, he held your arm, but it was much too gentle to stir any panic.
“Don't worry. Nobody would go after an artist I hired.” He leaned in to keep you hostage to his piercing eyes. The close proximity only heightened the tension you didn't know existed. What he said next, however, would have you blushing like a bride. “To have a target on your head means you're a liability. So unless we were an item--”
He smiled contently at the sight of your reddening cheeks. “--nothing will happen.”
Fortunately, your mortification was short-lived as you remembered your circumstances. Giving him a light shove, you walked off to his hallway. While your back was turned to him, he bit back a sharp grin, but to no avail. Man, were you feisty.
“Stop being such a womanizer and show me your studio, Luciano.” You mused, pausing in the doorway to glance at him over your shoulder. Was that playfulness he saw in your eyes?
“It isn't very professional.”
He hung his head and threw his hands up. Being scolded and ordered around was his worst pet peeve. But when you did it, he was only more compelled to misbehave.
“Mi dispiace. But I was only kidding. If I was part of the mob, my windows wouldn't be this big. Nor this abundant.” Making his way to your side, he walked with you to the said studio.
“And Luciano is a bit of a mouthful, no? You call me Luci.”
Unbeknownst to the two of you, someone else had entered the kitchen to pour themselves a drink. And boy, were they in for a show.
“You got it, boss. You call the shots.” A voice spoke in a gravely-exaggerated mobster accent.
“You're milking it...”
“I'm just joking, Luci. Let me have this moment.”
“Fine. Maybe I should've kept pretending. That'll get you to be a little more obedient.”
“And where's the fun in that?”
“Hmph.”
Lutz narrowed his eyes once the voices faded into silence. And he thought he hated being called Luci.
A mischievous smirk plastered across his face.
“Looks like somebody's found their inspiration.”
A few hours later, he appeared in the studio with a canned beer in hand. Even in such a lavish estate, no form of entertainment could beat pestering an old friend. Waltzing inside like he owned the place, he grinned toothily at what he saw. You and Luciano were busy working on a painting. But rather than using brushes, you both used your fingers.
“Hey.”
Luciano glanced at him and immediately felt the beginnings of anger simmer inside. “What do you want?”
Lutz laughed breathily. “Heh. No knives today?”
“If you don't get out, there will be!” The other whisper-shouted.
You stopped painting and turned to the newcomer with nothing short of curiosity. “... Hi. Are you Luci's henchman?” The joke was probably long dead, but you couldn't resist. Not when the stranger was built on six feet of pure muscle. “Nice to meet you.”
So this was the mysterious artist who managed to tame the bastard, huh? Lutz flattened his lips thoughtfully. “... In a way.”
“No, he's not. Now, get out. Your presence is ruining the mood... And killing my brain cells.” At the sound of that, you exploded into a burst of hearty laughter. Seeing Luciano push him out and leave colorful handprints on his tank only intensified those laughs. Once he managed to get his henchman out of the room, he whipped his head to you with a flustered glare.
“What's so funny?” He frowned. For one, he was rather taken aback at how he wasn't annoyed at you. At all. If someone like Lutz pushed their luck by teasing him, there would be more than one scar marring that punchable face of his.
“Nothing, nothing. I just thought... Maybe we could ask for his top and sell it. That was definitely a masterpiece.” You sighed, catching him off guard yet again. “It's the best work you've done today...”
The blush on his face deepened. A comment like that should've ticked him off, but he only found himself thoroughly infatuated. But that was preposterous! He was only letting this slide because you weren't that German bastard of a bum. That had to be it. But no matter what you did, he didn't have a single mean bone in his body for you. And he was about to test that theory.
“If you thought that was a masterpiece, I'll make you some more.” Marching over and undoing your apron, he wiped his fingers all over your once crisp white shirt. Looking down with a gasp, you weren't prepared for him to clap your cheeks and leave two brown handprints.
“You bitch!”
In his whole life surrounded by the worst potty-mouths, himself included, he'd never heard somebody cuss with so much sincerity. So the most logical reaction was to return the favor, if not be a little annoyed. But even as you ruined his blouse, which happened to be more expensive than everything in the room, he was cackling hysterically.
By the time you both calmed down, he had settled his chin atop your head and wrapped two arms around your neck. The paint on his face was drying up, but he was in no hurry to wash it off. Giving you a squeeze, he leaned down and pressed his cheek to yours. “You're coming tomorrow, aren't you?”
“Mhm.”
“And the day after that?”
“I don't see why not.”
“Then what about the day after that?”
You faced him and pinched his cheek affectionately, but he never complained. “If I was, what's the point of leaving, hm? I have something on that day, but I'll update you.”
Standing up at that, you felt his arms slide off of your shoulders. Luciano pulled away reluctantly, and as you left his studio, he found himself trailing after you against his own will. As quiet as he was, inside, he was tearing himself apart, torn between asking you to stay in the guest room and driving you home. But in the end, he got in the car.
Once he arrived outside your house, his body acted out unexpectedly when he shot his hand out to grab yours. The sudden contact startled you, though you could only gleam at his paint-smeared face that stifled back a thousand words. “What, do you miss me that much already?” You chuckled, much to his pleasure.
“You're just missing me too less.” He closed his eyes for a satisfied look. When he opened them again, he added this. “I'll pick you up here. Same spot. 9 am. If you don't show up in five minutes, I'll break inside and pull you out of bed.” Only then did he let you go.
“You got it, boss.”
With that said, you waved at him and made your way inside. Once the door clicked shut, he returned his gaze to the dashboard and shook his head with a defeated smile. “Oh my god.”
When he climbed the flight of stairs to appear next to the kitchen, the hiss of an espresso machine was heard. Rolling his head to it absently, he dropped his keys on the island and dug his hands through his sticky hair. Without addressing the blonde, who took an obvious interest in his disheveled appearance, he sauntered to the couch and flopped down on it.
“... Luciano.”
“What do you want?” He muffled his voice into the cushion.
Lutz walked over with a mug in hand and sipped it. Pointing to his own face, he swirled his index in circles. “You have a little something there.” When the other rolled his head to him, so did their colorful face.
The next two days saw steady progress in the project he paid you to do. While the painting moved closer to completion, he cared less and less about the finished product. At the same time, his eagerness for you to come grew exponentially. He could never admit it, but that didn't mean Lutz couldn't see right through him.
A single glance at him working in the studio was more than enough to deduce the conclusion that he was hopelessly head over heels for you. For one, it wasn't right to say he was even working anymore. Instead, he was staring at you, and sometimes, for twenty minutes or more if you were particularly immersed in your art.
This was only confirmed in due time.
Trotting downstairs to the cellar, he discovered that over ten bottles of wine had disappeared. And the culprit promptly made an appearance when he returned to the living room. Luciano was holding an empty bottle when they bumped into each other, the contact on his shoulder causing him to drop it. When it shattered on the marble floor, so did his patience.
“What the fu--watch where you're going, you fucking idiot!” He hissed, giving the other a strong shove back.
Beer fizzed out of the can and splashed onto his white tank. Lutz couldn't care less about ruining his clothes, but wasting beer? He pulled back with a growl. “I could say the same for you. I'm not the stumbling drunk here cuz' I can actually hold my weight.”
Luciano rolled his eyes and inhaled a deep breath.
“You know what, just leave me alone.” He huffed, kicking the shards on the ground. Once he scattered the glass all over the hall, he stormed off to his studio. Letting out a frustrated string of colorful words, he tore through more canvases than he cared to count. Punching a hole in one, then using another as target practice, half of the artwork was completely destroyed by the time Lutz showed up.
“I don't get it! Why am I so angry? Why can't I paint something like this?” Luciano exasperated, gesturing forcefully to the painting you were working on. Then, he marched up to the man and gripped the front of his tank. “Am I just that shit? But that can't be!”
At this point, Lutz was done with arguing.
“... You know what I'm about to say.”
Luciano threw his hands up as they chorused the same line simultaneously. “It looks the same as every other painting you've done--yeah, I know! I didn't really expect you to give me any useful advice. I just wanted you to listen to me.”
“Don't I always listen to you?”
“No--”
“Wasn't it me who suggested for you to go to that art gallery?”
“Yeah, but it's not like--it's not like you knew she was gonna show up! (F/N) being there only happened once in a blue moon. You were just lucky, so don't think you're a genius or anything, ha!”
Lutz scoffed, but his unimpressed expression quickly morphed into a shrewd one. “Accept it, liebling. You're down bad. Down astronomically. Just invite her over, and when she comes, you'll know what I mean. It's not the paintings you're making a fuss over.” He watched Luciano's hair spike up like a cat, then him light up like a Christmas tree. That little man was many things, but an honest person was not one of them.
“You think you're so smart, huh, cazzo?” Luciano pointed at him accusingly. “Well, I might just do it. Just to prove you wrong.”
When he left, Lutz clicked his tongue with raised brows.
“That's what you said last time...”
And invite you over he did. When he spotted a silhouette on the other side of the blurry glass, he sprung up from the couch and swung open the door with great gusto. There you were, as effortlessly charming as he remembered, and a little startled. You never had the chance to knock, nor process his scruffy appearance.
“Luci--hey! You look... A little more tired than I remember.”
Without a shred of hesitation, he grabbed your hand and pulled you to his bedroom. Yet again, his body was acting against his will, but perhaps, this was what he wanted in the first place. He just never admitted it. As he slowly came to terms with it, his eyes widened to dinner plates, and his heart pounded obnoxiously in his chest.
“Hey, what're you--”
He pointed wordlessly to the bed.
You shook your head, unable to figure out what he meant. “What do you want me to do?”
Luciano glowered at you, but it served as a stark contrast to the softness in his voice. “I'll pay you. As much as you want. Just stay there.” Seeing that you had yet to go along with his requests, he marched over to you and laid you down. Before you could object, he threw the blanket over you and tucked you in.
Sliding himself in from the other side, he scooted in and coiled his arms around your stomach. “Now, sleep.”
Breathing out a soft sigh, you rolled to him and brushed his mussy bangs back. “For someone so straightforward, you're not very honest, are you?” Sitting up to unzip your jacket, you proceeded to take your shirt off. When you stripped down, blood rushed to flush his cheeks as he came to realize he was completely love-struck.
“... Holy shit.”
Climbing onto his lap, you laughed over his lips and squeezed his neck. “You're really bad at hiding things. But like you said, I can read your mind.”
Luciano knitted his brows together. Then, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your mouth. “And it's very invasive. Please stop it.”
“Only if you promise to pay me in the morning.”
“... You're not a prostitute.”
“Oh, but you are one too. We're all whores, if you think about it. We just sell different parts of ourselves.”
Well... For the 'our favorite charaters' thing... I don't have anyone to talk about Hetalia with, so, since you asked... 1. 2P!Italy; 2. America; 3. 2P!America; 4. Romano; 5. Prussia and 6. 2P!Canada (I really like both 1P! and 2P! America, but I think I lean a bit more towards the 1P!).
You’re the first Person I’ve ever talked to that has a 2p as their favorite character.
Here’s a little one shot with 2pItaly because I don’t think I have him anywhere on my blog!
“il mio amore!” Your head shot in from your computer as your husband bursts through the library doors (you have a library in your home, lucky duck) . You pushed your lap top off your lap and went to stand up.
“Are you okay?” You soothed. You held your hands out and he quickly gripped you and held you against him, burying his face in your shoulder.
“I hate everyone.” He grumbled. You rolled your eyes and kissed the side of his head.
“Is that you’re all worked up about?” You stifled. The Italians head removed itself from your shoulder and he stared at you with firey magenta eyes. “Luci don’t look at me like that. I’m your wife not one of your buddies.” You scolded. You tapped his nose and his head jumped back, making you giggle. The ferocious Italian was just like a little puppy afterall. “Now what makes you hate everyone?” You pondered. You sat down on the couch and the Italian quickly laid his head in your lap.
He told you more wild stories about how Lutz is a loose cannon who can’t follow direction. And he told you how Kuro keeps trying to smoke during meetings, and how by the end of them the whole room smells like cheap marijuana.
“That is annoying.” You smiled, petting his thick brown locks.
“I’m going to fire them.” He grumbled, rolling over so his head was buried in your stomach. You clucked your tongue at him.
“No you’re not. They are your best friends! And they helped you build an empire. You can’t throw them away no matter how much they annoy you.” You reasoned. He was silent for a few moments before nodding his head in agreement.
“You’re Right.” He sighed. His voice was muffled due to being pressed against your stomach. He adjusted so he was staring at the ceiling and your beautiful face. “This is why I need you Bella. You always talk me down.” He sighed, adoringly. He sat up and pressed a kiss to your temple. He moved to go out the door but before he did he turned and looked back at you. “Don’t forget dinner tonight! I have been holding those reservations for four months.” He winked.
hello again! here is a piece i did to relax. it’s 2p!poland and 2p!italy from fancition that i’m writing. yes i’m into hetalia. you can’t escape this hell xddd
