#frukspa

[noone28888]

Uh

[exileart]

I tried to draw Francis and Antonio trying to make Arthur jealous to practice posing and expressions, but I'm not sure it worked out well (Ugh, hands and expressions are hard af).

I used the scene from the film Wilde as reference.

[helianskies]

How about #23 for UKSpaFr? It could be a love triangle 🤭

okay so,, not really gone for love triangle but it is definitely frukspa what a lovely decision hehe

Reunited

“He should be out of there by now. What’s taking so long?”

“Yeah, but don’t forget he’s also probably waiting for luggage, and there’ll be a queue at border control. His flight only landed half an hour ago.”

Francis gives a tut and begins to hold himself. While he looks cold, it is probably because he wants a hug that is likely still waiting to have its passport checked. Arthur would have… offered him some kind of comfort, if he had even the slightest belief Francis would accept it. But he wouldn’t. So he doesn’t.

“I wish he’d picked an earlier flight,” Francis rattles on, starting to slowly pace, two steps one way, two steps back. “You are sure you’re happy to drive back?”

“Of course,” Arthur replies. His eyes do not leave the exit from customs. “It’s not too far.”

“Only an hour and a half,” the other scoffs, and then sighs. “I hope he’s eaten something for dinner. La cuisine est fermée. It’s too late to cook him anything decent.”

“Good job I shoved some snacks into the car, then,” Arthur supposes, mustering up a smile. He looks at Francis, who has returned his gaze to the doors as another small flock of people start to emerge. Another wave of disembarked passengers. “He’ll be here soon,” he assures him. “I mean, he could be on the loo for all we kn—”

“Antoine!”

“Francis!”

“Arthur!” the same blond cheers quietly, as Antonio comes hurtling down the ‘departures only’ zone, and launches himself at Francis.

He’s used to such scenes. They have always been very hands-on in that way. Arthur prefers to do so in private. Though, even he has to admit, it does make him happy to see Antonio be swept off his feet for a rather dramatic spin, which makes him give a little surprised scream before demanding he be put down. The way he gives Francis’ arm a light smack for the move is rather entertaining.

“No picking me up, I’ve told you before,” Antonio finishes chiding Francis, although he is smiling, as is Francis (as is Arthur). And then he turns to the other. His smile grows. Arthur’s heart leaps and bounds. “Are we doing hugs, too?” he asks. “Or would you rather wait?”

Arthur is unsure at first. There are a lot of people around, a lot of eyes, a lot of noise. A hug sounds good. Frankly, given that he has just had to go two weeks without one from Antonio, a hug sounds great. Antonio has been away seeing family, and, even though he has had Francis and Francis is just as loving and doting, Antonio is—

“Hug it is!”

“O-Oh— Uh—” 

It seems, in the end, he has had no choice in the matter.

(But, secretly, that’s okay.)

“I’ve waited ages for this,” Antonio tells him as he practically swings from Arthur’s neck. He presses a hasty kiss—a big fat smooch—to the blond’s face, before he pops back off, pinches Arthur’s cheeks in greeting, and then says to them, “I’ve missed you. Both of you,” as he makes grabby hands towards both of them—a sign for them to each take a hand.

Dutiful as ever, both Francis and Arthur obey.

“So,” Francis says, as he takes Antonio’s luggage in his free hand and gestures for the three of them to head for the exit, “you survived your little family gathering?”

“Only just!” Antonio remarks with a soft snort of laughter. “I tell you what, I’m glad to be back. Which I didn’t expect to say, considering it’s absolutely heaving it down outside, but… well, you know what family’s like.”

Arthur hums. “Tolerable for five minutes, before they’re doing your head in?”

“Yeah. But,” Antonio then presses, tugging the pair of them closer to him as they pass through the building’s exit and out to the fresh (and wet) air, “I really am happy to be back home.” 

He looks between them both, and then gives Arthur the same kind of kiss on the cheek as before, before then giving Francis the same treatment. He breathes in England, embraces the cooler climate and shakes off that of his native Iberia, and, as though a switch has flicked in his brain, he suddenly asks:

“I don’t suppose you brought any food with you, did you? The coffee on the plane was awful, and I didn’t have time to grab anything at the airport before my flight…”

Arthur shares a look with Francis—one of amusement, one that says ‘I told you so,’ (which earns him rolling eyes, a lop-sided smile)—and he assures Antonio that, yes, there’s food in the car. 

“Oh, I love you!” Antonio proclaims in turn, squeezing both of their hands. “You have no idea how much that means to me!”

“Yes we do,” Arthur and Francis remark in unison, however; Antonio gives a laugh, suggests they head for the car before he takes his hunger out on them and gobbles them both up (affectionately, with kisses, because he loves them so, so much, he clarifies).

The car drive back is easy and pleasant, even in the rain. Arthur is kept happy by Antonio’s contagious enthusiasm, telling them both about his holiday in between snack breaks. Francis checks in on him every now and then, too (at one point, his hand comes to rest on Arthur’s as it sits on the gearstick, and a quick glance shows that Francis, too, is happy). 

And by the time the three of them get back, it’s dark, it’s cold, it’s miserable outside. But when they step back through the front door, all they feel is a restored warmth and comfort, knowing they are all finally home again.

[ ficlet collection is here on ao3! ]

[fireandiceland]

my favourite flavour of fruk is when they are undeniably in love. have been for centuries. but still Arthur would rather die then admit it while Francis easily confesses his feelings ten times a day. and also just from how I headcanon the nations relationships to work, they have things going on aside form each other and they kiss other people and sometimes bring other people into their bed or relationship but in the end. in the end they both know they can come home to each other and be welcomed with open arms no matter where and when and idk I’m having a lot of FEELINGS rn 😭

[iship2muchshit]

Frain week 2022: Day 4: Friends with benefits.

@aphfrainweek​

Relationship: Frain (France x Spain) with a bit of Spuk and Fruk with hints of FrUkSpa I guess?

Summary: Spain and France are laying in bed together after a bout of lovemaking and Spain asks France about England.

Word Count: 850

Mature: Mention of sex but nothing too explicit.

Anyway enjoy!

Title: Let's bitch about England because fuck him!

France was smoking a cigarette in bed, occasionally huffing out a cloud of smoke as Spain was laying against him playing with the hair on the man's chest.

"Say, Francia, what do you think about Inglaterra?"

France stopped breathing for a second and frowned.

"Mixed feelings. Why?" he asked, confusion clear in his voice.

"He was shouting to me about something today," Spain said, sounding subdued.

"Doesn't surprise me, always complaining about something. What did you do that led to him being a nuisance again?" France snorted.

"Forgot some paperwork or so, I don't even really remember what he said." Spain shrugged.

France raised an amused eyebrow, "and why is it bothering you?'

"Did you ever notice he has a nice mouth and pretty lips?"

"..." France was silent, and Spain held his breath.

Spain dared to look up and grimaced as he saw Francis frown, before getting a faraway look in his eyes and turning a bit red.

Then finally...

"Uh, no comment."

The Spaniard frowned and Francis spoke up again,

"But mon cher... What's the connection?" Francis finally asked.

Spain sighed, before admitting "I couldn't focus on what he was complaining about because all I wanted to do was shut him up."

Francis laughed and Spain smiled feeling the chest rumble underneath his head.

"Been there done that." the Frenchman finally said.

"Yeah?" Spain asked, interested.

"As in, I punched him." Francis nodded, proudly.

"Oh..." Spain said, sounding disappointed and Francis frowned.

"What is it, mon cher?" Francis murmured, looking down at him.

Spain said silent for a long time, before breathing in,

"So you never fucked?"

If France had been drinking something he would have spat it out, instead he just choked on the smoke he wrongly inhaled.

"Antoine, mon cher, please give me some context to all your strange questions?" He finally asked.

Spain looked awkward.

"It's embarrassing."

"Yes, I'm sure it is. We're talking about Angleterre here."

"Exactly, I hate his guts."

"Yet you seem to want to fuck them." France remarked with a snort.

"Mierda, Francis, don't say stuff like that!" Spain stared in front of him, face bright red.

"You wanted to shut him up with your mouth? Or perhaps... with something else?" France teased, moving so he was leaning over Spain who had his hands on his face embarrassed.

"¡Cállate!" Spain groaned. Shut up!

"Ohoho, No, I don't think I will," France smirked, as he leaned closer to the man's ear. "do you sometimes wish it was him that was fucking you?"

Spain moved his head away from the Frenchman, which was hard as the man was completely laying on top of him. So instead he turned back to look the man in the eyes.

"Stop it Francis, you're being mean." He glared.

"Mean? No, I'm just teasing my dear friend over his cute little crush on Angleterre."

"I wouldn't call it a crush." Spain mumbled.

"Oh well, an infatuation. You want to fuck him?" he paused, "or get fucked by him?"

"Stop." Spain groaned, ears bright red.

Francis laughed, and then laughed some more when he felt something harden against his stomach.

"Mon cher, your body betrays you, hmmm?" France grinned at him, blue eyes so bright.

"I want to die." Spain moaned, taking the cushion next to him and screaming into it.

Francis laughed some more before pulling back the cushion, "Anyway, if you must know, I have indeed had sexual relations with Angleterre."

Antonio let go of the cushion, "you have?"

"Yeah, it's a good way to relieve tension." France shrugged.

"Oh." was all Antonio managed to say.

"But unlike with you, I don't get to cuddle afterwards," France snuggled into the Spaniard's neck and nipped at it making Antonio laugh.

The laughter died out and Francis grinned at his dear friend laying next to him.

Suddenly Spain spoke up again,

"So you want to snuggle with Inglaterra?"

Now it was France's turn to become flustered, "non, of course not!" he huffed out.

Antonio's smile widened, unconvinced.

"You want him to hold you close afterwards? Tell you he loves you?"

"I do not." Francis was bright red.

Spain laughed, feeling like he had the upper hand again, "He would say it like 'Frog, I love your stupid face.'" Spain imitated.

Francis groaned into his neck, "Tais-toi" Shut up!

The Spaniard giggled, "come on, that was a pretty good imitation!” he coughed once, continuing “'I want you to make love to me right this very instant, and you better bloody hurry u-'”

France shut him up by kissing him, before pulling back and glaring at the man below him. "You're lucky I love you mon cher,"

"Love you too, Francis," Spain smiled, leaning back to kiss him.

-

An hour later the two were sated once more and Spain was laying on Francis' chest again, this time taking the cigarette out of his hand to also take a drag

"Anyway, I think we should have a threesome with Angleterre."

Spain coughed up the smoke he inhaled, turning towards the Frenchman with a raised eyebrow.

"Ok."

That’s how simple it was.

-

-

-

Fin

Alright so I think France and Spain love each other deeply in this one and have a good and loving relationship but aren't monogamous at all. I don't think they'd be able to. It works quite well for them though!

As for England, I think both hate having the hots for him, and France has some deeper feelings he hates exploring.

England on the other hand is bad at expressing any feelings sexual or otherwise, but tends to give in to whatever move is made on him.

I hope you enjoyed! Lemme know in the comments and tags! :D

[thatsamericano]

Matthew: [acts super fake and very cheerful about breakfast to make FrUKSpa stop arguing so everyone can eat]

Alfred, who has done this same thing when FrUK argued over dumb shit before: Damn, my brother is a good actor. He’s amazing at imitating me.

[iship2muchshit]

Frain week 2022: Day 3: Love Language

What me posting another one so late? I started this and then kind of forgot so here it finally is!

@aphfrainweek

Relationship: Frain (France x Spain)

Summary: France and Spain ask England to choose which one of theirs is the true language of love!

Word Count: 1066

Mature

Disclaimer: I’m aware this is not what a love language is but I felt uninspired for that, while for language I’m mega inspired, which is why it took me a while.

Thank you to that one discord user that believes himself to be Spain ;) I wouldn’t have had the Spanish to do this without you!

Anyway enjoy!

Title: To simp for Spanish or to simp for French? That is the question. 

"Obviously having hung around both of you and associating that with you both I find neither of your languages to be particularly attractive." 

"Menteur" Liar

"Estás mintiendo." You're lying.

Arthur rubbed his brow in annoyance, cheeks heating up as he looked over to the two Mediterranean countries standing in front of his desk.

"Look, if you don't trust me to be honest how do you want me to end your dispute?" He sighed, frustrated.

"Angleterre, we need someone neutral. You pretend to hate us both equally-" France started, making air quotes with his fingers.

"Pretend?!?" Arthur interjected with a raised eyebrow and Francis ignored him with an amused eye roll. 

"Yes yes, You are thus the best judge to aid us I resolving this debate." 

Antonio nodded next to his partner in crime. 

"It had to be you, Inglaterra." 

England groaned. 

"What about Belgium?" 

"Would choose Spain just to annoy me." 

England snorted, "seems like her. What about Germany?" 

"He'd choose France because he is his neighbour and it would be good for neighbourly relations." Spain sighed. 

England snorted once more, "Sounds like him, true. One of the Italies?"

Both Spain and France shook their head vigorously. 

England suddenly understood, "ah, yes, can't make the debate even more complicated by adding Italian into consideration." 

France and Spain nodded sagely. 

England was about ready to bash his head against his desk.

"So how are you two planning to figure out which one is the uhm…" he hesitated, having trouble getting the words past his lips, "sexiest?" 

Both countries in front of him snorted. 

"Which one of our languages is the true language of love, obviously." Spain clarified. "And for you to understand I managed to grab one of the automatic translators we use during the meetings." The man passed him a little gadget that must cost a fortune before crossing his arms.

"Does Germany know you stole one of-" Arthur was cut off. 

France scoffed, "yes, a dumb competition because Spain refuses to accept that it is widely agreed upon that it is mine." 

"Yeah well Spanish and seduction start with the same letter," the Spaniard deadpanned and Francis groaned.

"I don’t think.." England started once more before being interrupted. Again.

"Antoine t'es un putain d'idiot parfois je te jure…" 

Antonio you're a fucking idiot sometimes I swear…

England glared at the Frenchman before the machine in front of him translated what was said.

"Now that's not very ni-"

Interrupted once more by the Spaniard this time,

"Language of love?! My ass." The Spaniard muttered "compared to something like-" and Spain's frown got replaced by a grin while the man moved his hand trough his hair, taking up what was clearly meant to be an attractive pose,

¿Puedes hablar un poco más? Es que dicen que la música cura el alma."

Could you talk a bit more? They say music heals the soul.

England received the translation and raised an amused eyebrow as he watched France's cheeks turn a little pink. 

"Obviously, I hadn't started yet." The Frenchman huffed out, annoyed before suddenly undoing some of his buttons and giving the Spaniard a cheeky grin. 

"Si j'écrivais un poème pour toutes les choses que j'aime chez toi, mon cher, j'ai peur qu'il n'y ait pas assez de papier."

If I were to were to write a poem for all the things I like about you, my dear, I fear there would not be enough paper anymore.

England whistled, impressed.

Seeing this Spain upped the ante, removing his jacket and opening his shirt as well before moving closer to truly look Francis in the eye. The Brit just hoped they wouldn't start a physical fight, he's not really in the mood to risk collateral damage trying to stop them.

"No sabía que te gustara la joyería, esos ojos son los zafiros más hermosos que he visto nunca."

I didn't know you were into jewellery, those eyes are the prettiest sapphires I've ever seen.

England raised an eyebrow wondering if the other two were still competing or have switched over to actually seducing each other. 

Francis looked away, seemingly embarrassed, although the smile on his face did betray he was flattered.

He quickly recomposed himself though grinning as if he was sure his next sentence would grant him the win.

"Entre le soleil et toi je ne sais pas qui me rends le plus chaud et en dessous de qui je préférer être allongé tout nus"

Between the sun and you, I do not know who heats me up the most (both figuratively and literally) and under which I prefer being laid out all naked. 

France stepped closer to the Spaniard and took his face in his hand. 

"Mais je pense bien que ce soit toi."

But I do believe it's you.

England didn't quite know what to say, completely speechless.

Hand still holding his face the Spaniard's eyes had darkened and he was licking his lips. 

"Tengo hambre, y tus labios se ven muy dulces."

I'm hungry, and your lips look sweet

England didn't even have the time to process what it meant before the two countries had pulled each other closer to smash their mouths together. Both eagerly getting rid of any piece of clothing they were wearing.

"Uhh," he started this time not letting himself be interrupted, even though the little grunts and moans were getting louder and louder. 

"So congrats you both won, or both lost, it depends on how you look at the situation," he shrugged seeing as they were both ignoring him once more and with a last eye roll left the room muttering something along the lines of "-both simps for each other… embarrassing…"

That’s before he suddenly came back, arms on his hips trying to strike a pose that left no room to disagreement. 

"Also, hey, this is my office. Go fuck in one of your own!"

France and Spain briefly disentangled themselves before looking at him, both red faced and hungry looks in their eyes. 

"Si querías unirte, todo lo que tenías que hacer era preguntar."

If you wanted to join all you had to do was ask.

France was a bit more direct. 

"Amene tes fesses" 

Bring your arse over here. (But literally, bring your buttcheeks.)

The machine translated both the Spanish and the French and England turned bright red once more. 

"Oh…" 

And then…

“Okay”

—

Fin

 Love this ship with England in the mix as well tbh. Ahhh...

[helianskies]

Luck

frukspa; 875 words; teen; for @maivalkov

"You'll be fine. You've worked hard to get here," Arthur assures him, and Francis joins in, saying, "We believe in you. Just try not to stress too much."

It is the best they can do for Antonio who, smiling rather nervously at them, they have brought back once more to the driving school in order to take his practical exam. This will be his third attempt to pass and get his licence. And they know that each time he has to come back, he only feels worse and worse about it.

In some ways, Arthur and Francis feel a bit like parents dropping off their child at school for the first time. They want it to go well for him. They want him to enjoy it. But Antonio is now twenty-six, and… while he wants those things, too, his efforts have yet to bear any fruit.

"Here, before you go," Francis says as hesitation (or even retreat) threatens to settle in, gesturing for Antonio to get closer, which he does. And when he's just close enough, Francis grabs him by the face and gives him a peck on the lips. "A kiss for good luck," he remarks as Antonio warms up. "Come back from your fierce battle unscathed, you hear?"

The laugh he receives is almost giddy. Antonio finds such things cheesy, but in a good way, and often encourages it. In fact:

"Well, Arthur? Do I get a good luck kiss from you, too?" he asks their third piece, their younger partner, and Arthur naturally rolls his eyes and tuts before going ahead and giving Antonio what he wants (and what he wants to give Antonio, anyway, despite his outward theatrics).

As Francis watches them, he smiles. He used to worry that they would not click in the same way that he did with them individually, but they have truly surprised him, and he's glad. They make each other happy, and so make him happy in turn…

Perhaps trying to stall, even if only for a moment longer, Antonio thanks them both and pulls them into a hug. Francis doesn't mind, deep down; he sets an arm around the brunette as Arthur does the same, and his other arm duly falls around the Brit, too. For a moment, they enjoy it. For a moment, they are alone, in paradise, living a quiet eternity in each other's arms. It's perfect. It's all Francis has ever wanted.

"I love you both," Antonio then tells them, as if they don't already know it, or feel it, "and I promise you, I'll make you both proud."

Francis pulls back and assures him, "You will make us proud no matter what," and, God, he really does sound like a parent, but… but he means it. They will be proud. The fact that he has not yet given up is admirable. "We'll be here waiting when you get back," he goes on.

"Speaking of which," Arthur then pipes up, "you'd better get going. Better to be a few minutes early, see if you can start sooner."

Antonio nods. He thanks them again and accepts the final reassurances that Francis and Arthur are able to give him, before he sets off.

While they have a short window, Francis and Arthur take it upon themselves to prepare, and head into town. From the local florist, Francis picks out a beautiful yet not-too-extravagant bouquet (Arthur rightly reminds him that Antonio prefers simplicity); down the street they reach the chocolatier from whom they purchase a small box of toffee, actually (because Antonio's sweet tooth is insatiable); and they even find a spare ten minutes in which to search for a gift more personal, more intimate, just to really spoil their partner (he'll no doubt need something to help him relax after such a stressful afternoon…).

The card, they already have. It has been sitting in the glovebox of Francis' car ever since Antonio took his first test, waiting patiently for its moment.

When they return to the driving school, it is only a matter of minutes before Antonio emerges, a piece of paper folded in his hand and flapping about in the wind. Francis and Arthur get out to greet him—they're ready to pounce, ready to embrace, ready to shower him with congratulations and gifts and kisses aplenty!…

But…

Antonio does not smile—not a real, Antonio smile.

Francis' heart sinks.

"I, uh… I guess the good luck kisses didn't work," the brunette says feebly. Although he tries to keep it light, he looks like he is in fact on the verge of tears.

"Oh, Toni… I'm sorry…"

"Do you want to—?"

"No, no. It's— It's fine," he insists. "I can try again in a bit…"

And that is what they all agree to do and work towards together. They'll support him, no matter how long it takes, because they know this means a lot to him. They're still proud. They still shower him with love, if not congratulations, and Antonio still thanks them for spoiling him with so many gifts, even if he feels he hasn't earned them.

His card will continue to wait in the glovebox in the meantime. It will simply have to be as patient as the rest of them.