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Uhhhh, friend wanted to read my hetalia gta au that I have?? So here it is???? This is just some of the random stuff I’ve come up w so far, but p much Ludwig and Feliciano are the Kingpins of Los Santos and p much run the whole island, Alfred is a dopeboy just trying to make a living before he gets snatched by the lovely Beilschmidt-Vargas’s. Fran, Arthur, Gilbert, Nat, they make appearances. Al falls in love w Nat, Lud’s mad out of character, Feli is a fucking sugar bby lbr, idk man but I rlly should lay out this story bc i want to change some stuff so uhhhhhh fucking RIP

Juggernaut

Alfred was considered a 'dope boy'. He'd been selling since he was 13, and got from his friend. And it didn't help that he lived in a drug heavy community. But then again, how was he supposed to pay rent. After awhile, paying rent was easy, if he controlled his spending. And slowly, at the age of 17, his house looked remarkable for a drug seller.

And he could finally eat, god could he finally eat. Eat an actual meal, that he made, three times a day. The weight came back, and he played football, he still sold dope, he got into college with a scholarship. He got into college. He couldn't pay for college by doing this. By pushing drugs. What does a boy do then. What does a high school boy do now that he can't go to college. He spends the rest of his life a failure. His friends constantly asking why he didn't take those scholarships, they would've helped him. 'Not enough,' he'd reply, bent on such a small thing.

Either way, if Alfred had gone to college, Ludwig would've found him, sooner or later. And Ludwig did. After he had wondered his way to Los Santos.

He pulled up to the one am drug deal, posing as a police officer, and the group bolted, and Ludwig chased Alfred halfway across Los Santos, before tackling him and pinning him down.

Ludwig had kept up well with Alfred, although he was much better at the whole parkour thing than Alfred was. And nearly overtook him on multiple occasions.

And by the time they got half across Los Santos, they were running under the pier once in the harsh white of parking lots lights that washed over the beach, he noticed a familiar car in the corner of his eye.

But, his look was cut short as Ludwig pushed him in the back, making him land on his bag and immediately be flipped over and expert pinned down by Ludwig.

Alfred flapped his arms about, trying to fight off the large man sitting on him, "Get the-!"

"Shut up!" He clasped his hand over his mouth, his voice thick with accent: "Shut up and listen to me."

Alfred stopped fighting but wouldn't let the man touch his arms, and looked angrily at his shadow faced assailant.

"I'm not a cop, and I'm not going to kill you. And I can't tell you my name because then you'll know me. So just shut up, listen to what I say."

Ludwig pulled him up, twisting his arm around to his back, walking him to the car sitting in the parking lot. Another man stepped out, seemingly talking in Italian to Ludwig, to which he responded in heavy German, some of which Alfred could figure out.

"That him?"

"Ja," Ludwig answered quietly, shoving the teen into the back seat.

"He's cute," the other said in English, pinching Alfred's dark cheek. "And young."

"And I'm not," Ludwig asked in heavy german, sounding offended, shutting the door on Alfred.

Now they were talking in two different languages again, they're voices muffled by the armored vehicle.

Alfred ducked to look out the slat in the vehicles windshield to watch them kiss and chuckle. By God, that's horrid. Nothing like seeing your kidnappers kissing and laughing while you're in the back of their car.

"Do you have your seat belt on, love?" The Italian speaking one asked and Alfred could see in the dim light from the dash that it was Feliciano Beilschmidt-Vargas. Looking at Ludwig who was staring at him in the rear view mirror.

"We should've worn masks," Ludwig said quietly, starting the vehicle and speeding out of the lot, throwing Alfred around.

Grabbing his seat belt while also trying to keep himself still was hard, as Ludwig whipped his way onto the highway and into the city.

"Wait," Alfred called from the backseat, he hadn't payed attention to their faces earlier. "If you guys are the Beilschmidt-Vargas's, then what do you want from me?"

Feliciano turned his seat, bracing himself, "You didn't tell him!"

Ludwig shrugged, "Nein."

Feliciano hit his husband on the arm, before turning back to Alfred, "Considering that we've picked you up personally, we just need you for an interview. And some errands, if you pass. And considering you've been dealing for how long is it? 6 years?"

"About, yeah."

"So we can trust that you'll keep your mouth shut about us?" Feliciano asked innocently. "We'd hate to have the publicity. And we actually really like living here."

"Ah, yeah. Yeah, I can keep my mouth shut. I have this long," Alfred shrugged, looking at the window, only to hear a click near his ear.

Ludwig, still somehow driving, was turned in his seat, pointing an apm at his head, and Alfred squeaked. "You will keep your mouth shut. I have very harsh penalties in place for members of my group, even for my husband, if anyone betrays us."

"Lu, babe, I know you're a good driver and all but please look at the road. And stop scaring the poor boy," Feliciano's hand pinched his husbands wrists and for a moment Ludwig refused his hand to go limp.

Alfred relaxed slightly when Feliciano removed the gun from the situation.

"He needs to get used to it," turning back in his seat, making his attention to the road.

"And he will. He'll just have to learn a few things is all," Feliciano winked at Alfred in the back seat, and an uneasy grin appeared on his face.

Alfred thought he was going to die, one from the way Ludwig was driving and two from being shot by either one of them.

Ludwig slowed, and zoomed back up the hills towards the rich houses of Los Santos. Closer to the top, a small, lit up mansion peaked and looked over the city.

Feliciano turned back around in his seat, "I hope you don't mind that you'll be staying the night with us?"

Alfred shook his head, as he stared wide eyed at the mansion. He'd never seen it before, and while he occasionally came up past the houses for runs, this house was new.

Pulling around to the front doors, Ludwig stopped the car and they all three got out.

The house, though very modernistic, had old French accents to the front and around the house. Although, unlike every other rich house, there was no fountain in the center of the circled driveway, it was all open.

"Alfred," Feliciano called from the front door, pulling him out of his fascinated state. "Come in, we'll feed you."

"Feliciano is a very good cook," Ludwig shut the door behind the boy, as he gazed around the high ceilings of the foyer.

Feliciano laughed, "You'll get used to it."

Alfred shook his head, as Feliciano pulled him into the kitchen, sitting him down on a stool.

"Now, what do you like?"

Alfred shrugged, "A sandwich would be fine."

To which Ludwig snorted quietly at, pulling pink wine out of its refrigerator, "You'll insult him like that. Hon, just make dinner for the three of us."

Ludwig pushed a wine glass towards Alfred that had, possibly, a gulp of wine in it. And he watched Ludwig fill up the other two glasses more than his and he realized that Ludwig just wanted him to taste it.

Daintily picking up the glass and smelling it, he put it to his lips, and tasted the pink wine. To his surprise, it was sweet, and rather enjoyable. He hadn't really drank, because he was too young yet, and most of it was just experimental.

He eventually started talking, answering questions that both men asked, drinking the wine slowly, and surely. Watching Feliciano make dinner, and sing and dance to the Italian on the radio. Ludwig made a small comment, about how Feliciano hadn't been home in years, yet he was still so attached to his roots. Which a hard slap was brought down on his arm by the tan hand, scowling at him and Ludwig laughed quietly. And Alfred had to smile.

On TV, on magazines, everywhere. The Beilschmidt-Vargas's were a very quiet, rich couple who kept their publicity to a minimum and didn't really give much PDA in public. Some people thought it was all a plot, a scheme. Set up by them for the money that Feliciano had in inheritance. That they weren't actually married, that they didn't actually love each other. It was all fake.

But it wasn't. They loved each other, a lot. Maybe it was the fact that they didn't have traditional wedding rings. That Feliciano's looked like an heirloom and Ludwig's looked like a class ring. And they were worn on their right hands, from being married in Germany, and to throw off the media.

And the way they looked at each other, after 9 long years, with the puppy love, and tenderness in their eyes. It was horribly sickening. But Alfred didn't mind as he ate dinner with the two, and cleaned up with them. They took Alfred through a basic tour of the house, giving him new clothes for the night and the morning, towels and toiletries for showering. They still stayed in the kitchen, talking and laughing. If this was what the interview was, he'd never been so comfortable with it before in his life.

It was going into the early morning hours when Feliciano nearly fell asleep against Ludwig on the bar stool. They bid each other good night, with Ludwig supporting his husband as he moved him to their bedroom.

The bed was firm, from lack of use, but the soft white sheets were so inviting as Alfred changed and curled into the bed for the night. He couldn't help but stare around the room in the filtered city light from below. It was well furnished, and decorated. Alfred wouldn't be surprised if they had hired someone to decorate their house, but wouldn't be surprising if they had done it themselves. The house, even from the outside and the people living it in, were so invitingly warm that it was hard to believe that everything in the media was false.

————–

Alfred woke late in the morning, with a soft knock on his door. Pulling himself out of the cocoon of blankets and poking his head out, he saw a blurry figure peeking in the door.

"Sorry," it whispered, and he couldn't tell if it was Ludwig or Feliciano, and the door quietly clicked shut.

Plopping his head back down on soft pillows, he seriously thought about going back to sleep. But after laying there and slowly waking up to the bright sun beginning to pierce it's way into the room, he unraveled himself from the blankets.

Now with his glasses, and more awake in this encounter, he heard Ludwig speaking German to someone in a hushed tone.

"Ja, I realize that but what me and Feliciano were able to get out of him, he seems willing. We went by his house the other day and it's a fucking dump, the whole block is."

There was a pause and Ludwig shifted in the kitchen chair, "I can send him to Nat. I can't let her know, she'll be less of a threat if I do so."

"Understandable," Ludwig sighed, and Alfred didn't really know what Ludwig was talking about, he didn't know German. And he didn't understand why he was still eavesdropping.

Heavily coming down the stairs, he watched Ludwig turn in the kitchen chair, and give a small tired smile to which Alfred returned with a wave. He sat heavily in the same stool as last night, and notice Feliciano wasn't around. Ludwig came into the kitchen, throwing his phone on the counter and rubbing his face.

"What was that about," Alfred questioned, trying to tread lightly.

Ludwig shook his head and rolled his eyes, leaning his elbows on the counter, "I was just talking to one of my members, and he's very hesitant about your recruitment. Sadly, for him, he'll be overruled in his decision."

–-––––

It was no surprise that Ludwig was a good driver, Alfred saw that first hand. And he even knew Los Santos like the back of his hand. Yet, Francis always drove during heists so Ludwig could easily lead.

It also wasn't a surprise that Ludwig had a vice grip when it counted. Alfred remembered their sparring very vividly, he had bruises for weeks just from where Ludwig grabbed hold of him. Though it was rather embarrassing to find those same sized bruises on Feliciano every so often, and Alfred obliviously asking how he got them. Alfred also remembered that Ludwig hung from a helicopter from one side of Los Santos to the other. He found that Ludwig was insanely strong, with out adrenaline even.

At first, Alfred came to fear Ludwig because of his strength which caused him to be so damn intimidating. Yet, Alfred found it easy to gain that same physical strength by following Ludwig's routines. And he found that it was a great thing to have, especially with being a gang member now. Although, the cold, merciless facade that Ludwig played was only that, a facade. He was very kind, loving, and rather charitable when he felt it. He doted on his husband constantly, as well as took care of his brother, Arthur, Francis, and Alfred before he did himself. There was an incident that Ludwig got severely hurt, to the point of passing out every minute trying to take care of Arthur, who literally had his guts in his hands, and Ludwig with major head trauma and bleeding that he somehow simply ignored. And even being a killer with a body count to match that of a war, Ludwig loved animals, specifically dogs. Yet he was scared of getting one, due to the fact that it could be used as a bargaining chip for other gangs and Ludwig knew he would make bad decisions when his own dogs life was at stake. Feliciano and the others, he knew they could take of themselves, and Ludwig would help them. But a dog, a dog was helpless, and Ludwig would do anything to prevent it.

------

"Wait," Alfred began through a mouth full of food. "Weren't you two the ones who had your sex tapes leaked?"

Feliciano smirked seductively, "Yeah, did you watch any of them."

Ludwig glared at Feliciano over his coffee cup as Alfred flushed under his dark skin and coughed, "Uh, no. No, I. I didn't."

"Mm, shame."

"Feli," Ludwig warned.

"What? We're the ones who put them out."

Alfred choked on his food mid swallow, "What!"

"Yeah," Feliciano popped a shoulder up. "I wanted the attention again, the media was starting to give up on us because we're so quiet. We had a few old ones, so I asked Ludwig and he even agreed."

"It wasn't exactly what I wanted to happen, seeming as they were finally leaving us alone. But, Feliciano insisted," Ludwig commented, finishing off his coffee.

————

Ludwig came into the kitchen, finishing the button on his cuff links, eyeing Feliciano up and down with a frown.

Feliciano frowned back, “What?”

“You’ve got on too much clothing,” Ludwig replied curtly.

Alfred couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow in confusion, Feliciano was only wearing a three piece suit with his jewelry.

Feliciano got angry for a split second, and realized the meaning behind it and smiled, winking, “Too bad. Come on, we’ll be late.”

Ludwig pulled a car key from his pocket, handing them to Alfred, “You’re picking up Natalya, remember?”

“Oh,” Alfred took the key. “Oh, yeah. That’s right.”

“Remember, it’s my vehicle so it’s registered with LSPD, don’t be afraid to break a few laws, just don’t crash it please.”

Alfred nodded, and they both left for the party. Alfred was glad it was just a party, not a heist or any other kind of devious plan hatched by the Kingpins of Los Santo’s.

Alfred took to standing and chatting with Natalya quite easily, he was able to get over his nervousness being with her, she was so pretty. Francis showed up sometime later, greeting both of them lovingly.

“Alfred, a question. Have you seen Ludwig and Feliciano recently? They’re stuck together at events, unless I just can’t see them with a group.”

Alfred peered around the crowd of wealth in the ballroom, not seeing a towering blond in a sleek navy suit, “No, I haven’t.”

Francis continued to peer around, “Just wondering, I believe I know where they got to, but I. I can’t obviously believe that they would wander as such.”

Alfred’s eyebrows knitted and he looked to Natalya for answers, only to find she was just as clueless. He looked back to Francis, but stopped short when he saw Ludwig exiting the men’s room with Feliciano draped over him per usual. Although, Feliciano’s hair looked messier, his necklace was no longer centered on his chest and Ludwig had creases in his suit that shouldn’t have developed this early in the night.

And Alfred’s eyes widened and he blushed harder than he had when he see’s Natalya, coming to the realization of what Francis had said earlier.

Natalya gave a silent “wow”, laughing and shaking her head while Francis looked partly betrayed.

“Well, I didn’t want to believe it but, it’s true,” Francis clapped Alfred on the back, turning to Natalya. “You might want him to stay with you tonight at the flat.”

Natalya smirked and nodded, “I supposed I can be so kind.”

“Please do,” Francis said, walking off as Alfred was still trying to cool his cheeks.

Natalya looked Alfred up and down, "You're not Ludwig."

"Nope," Alfred rocked up into his toes. "I'm his dope boy."

"'His dope boy'? I didn't know that he was in such business," she pointed her gun, frowning. "I doubt he would get dope boy to run his errands."

Alfred wasn't really paying attention to the gun, Ludwig and Feliciano had pointed enough guns at him in the past week, and he frowned, "Then he lied about calling you to tell that I was coming."

"I don't trust people who walk into my warehouse and pose as somebodies 'dope boy' when they've never been in drug business."

"Ludwig told me to come-... this is a test," Alfred said idly. "He wanted me to come here without your knowledge that he wasn't and see what would happen."

"The more you keep talking, the more I want to shoot you," Natalya took another step forward so her knee was against the supply crate separating them.

Alfred raised his eyebrow, "I'm pretty sure if you do that he won't buy off you. And he's not going to be happy about losing me."

Natalya growled, "Do you even have money?"

Alfred looked dumbfounded, "Ludwig didn't give me any."

"Then get the fuck out! You don't have money, you don't get goods!" Her Russian accent became heavy in her yelling. "Go! Get! Never show face here again!"

"Okay, okay," slinking away towards the docking doors.

Opening a door, Ludwig came in slightly disheveled, a red mark going dark on his neck. He turned Alfred back towards Natalya, and he smiled.

"Thanks for not shooting him."

Stuffing her gun back into her jacket, she crossed her arms, "Why do you insist on doing these things?"

"Art's idea actually," Ludwig pushed Alfred's cheeks, showing off the fat around them. "Look at how young he is, nineteen. He's been selling since thirteen, and we're gonna change that."

"I would have preferred to know about this before hand. I would've made it harder if I know."

Ludwig hummed, "I know, but I liked this better."

"What do you need?"

Smoothing his hair back, he thought, "I need mini gun rounds, both stationary and mobile. 6 crates of stickies, thousand rounds for apm, AK, 44's, semi's, full auto shots. And enough supplies to make about, ah, let's say 300 Molotov's. Oh, do you know where we could get 102 centimeter bullet proof tires?"

Natalya nodded, "I will get supplies. You want full on the mini gun rounds, correct?"

Ludwig nodded. "And the tires," Natalya paused, and shrugged, shaking her head. "Try the Seychellian girl. Bullet proofs that big are hard to find, and expensive. I don't sell them. I make no profit from it. I will have things sent to your warehouse."

"Thank you, Natalya. And this is Alfred. He somehow ended up here in Los Santos. And yes, he is my dope boy. Need to make a living somehow, I can't pay him yet. He hasn't been recruited."

Natalya laughed, "Have fun then. I've heard many a thing from your recruiting."

She turned and waved them off, and Ludwig steered Alfred back out to the car.

"Why didn't you tell her? She might've shot me," Alfred glared at the taller blond.

Ludwig cussed, "I knew we were forgetting something."

"What's that," Feliciano leaned against Ludwig's Grotti.

"Social cues. We forgot all about it."

Feliciano thought for a moment, "We did. We'll just have to send him to Georgia."

"Wait, what? Georgia!? The country or the state?" Alfred panicked as he stood there.

"The person," they both said, looking at him calmly and Ludwig continued. "He'll help you with all the social cues. And when you get back we'll work more on combat, and I'll get my brother over here to help."

Feliciano sighed happily, "It'll be good to see Gil again."

Ludwig nodded, "I just, have to find him."

Feliciano hummed, "He's not that good at hiding."

Ludwig shrugged, "In the mean time, we'll send you to Georgia's. Let's go."

Social cues was a bit of an understatement. Alfred got the shit beat out of him everyday, until he finally learned how to respond and act. If this is what Ludwig called training than it was horrible. And he actually didn't want to see how Ludwig would teach him different things. And he woke up in that bath nearly everyday, with his injuries a dull thudding pain.

The cot was stiff, and small, anyway he laid, he hung off in some form of nature. He missed the beautiful bed that Ludwig and Feliciano had given him when he arrived. But it was better than the cold cemented floor underneath him.

Georgia yelled, a lot. And woke Alfred up in the most unorthodox ways, this morning. Ice cold water was thrown over his body and Alfred shuttered to life suddenly.

In front of him was Georgia, his long brown hair, hanging in his face, with the bucket. The door, to the closet like room was open and no lights were on.

Alfred, knew better than to sit there and mourn the fact that he was no longer dry and somewhat warm, so he stood, clothes soaking wet.

"I was told to not kill you, but that doesn't mean I won't threaten your life. Get dressed," Georgia walked out, slamming the closet door behind him.

What the fuck did that mean? Georgia had already nearly killed Alfred on multiple occasions. Why and how was this going to be different?

Alfred didn't waste anymore time than he already had, he got dressed and made his way down to the warehouse. Finding Georgia talking with Ludwig in hushed voices in silky language.

Ludwig smiled at Alfred, "Glad to see that face of yours doesn't have any scars."

"Yeah," Alfred breathed, trying not to anger Georgia and he watched Ludwig's face drop.

"This is your last day here," Ludwig started as Georgia walked away. "If you survive this, you'll survive initiation."

He watched Alfred panic lightly, "Don't worry, what we're doing won't kill you. I won't allow it. We'll have things set up to make sure we don't kill you."

Alfred tried to calm his breathing, closing his eyes and not even hearing or feeling Ludwig move towards him.

"It's too late for that. We start now," Ludwig quickly bagged Alfred, putting him in a straining hold, making it harder for Alfred to fight back as he tried to use the moves Georgia had taught him. But Ludwig was much more bulkier and stronger than he would ever be.

Ludwig was pushing him forward, ignoring the fact that Alfred was struggling to hold him back. Ludwig still had his vice like grip on Alfred as he felt another pair of hands pull a zip tie around his wrists; and he struggle to make it harder for Georgia, not worrying about angering him.

Both Ludwig and Georgia were able to make quick work of him, shoving him into one of the smaller rooms and slamming his head against the wall to where he fell limp.

They left Alfred there and it wasn't until he woke up later, he was sitting with his hands tied together by the zip ties and rope. He pulled at the tight restraints and rubbed his hands, trying find some kind of leverage to slip out. At this point, his wrists were raw, and his sweaty hands weren't aiding his escape.

There was the sound of metal door creaking open, heavy steps, and wheels? Definitely castor wheels, and metal clanging against itself. Alfred pulled at the rope harder, ignoring the pain from the blisters. He couldn't see, as the warehouse was dark, and there was sudden light. It cascaded across his sitting body on the chair, and blinded him through the thick fabric of the bag. There was another light from his opposite side, and he could feel the heat starting to seep through his clothes.

"Took you long enough to wake up," the sound of the cart came closer and so did the heavy footsteps, and Alfred pulled harder. "The boss told us he didn't hit you that hard. But that's to be expected from a shit kid."

"I thought he wanted to recruit me," Alfred was still pulling, only seeming to make the ropes tighter.

"Eh, he changed his mind," the man said to him, pulling the hood off and Alfred was met with a masked man that looked bigger than Ludwig if it was possible, and the man hanging behind him was quiet and eerie.

Picking up a pair of pliers, he looked at Alfred, "He did have one request though. To keep your face pretty, but he said nothing about teeth."

Quickly, both men were on him, the big one was pinching his nose shut as the other held his back firmly.

"You'll have to breath at some point, but. If you kill yourself somehow by suffocating, I have no problem with it."

Alfred, clenched his jaw, face turning red as he tried to pull away from their grips. Keeping his jaw clenched, he sucked air through his teeth and the man was only to chip his one tooth.

Then he got cocky, too cocky and got his back molar ripped out by the man.

Through his pain, he watched the man examine his tooth, "You've got some pretty nice teeth here. Boss told me you sold dope so I figured you did it too. Looks like I'm wrong."

"I'm not an idiot," Alfred retorted, spitting the blood out and wincing in pain.

"Oh no," the man replied, putting ythe pliers down. "You are quite the idiot. One; you're just a kid, and two; you get cocky too quick."

The smaller man that held his head back, poured vodka in his mouth. Making the socket burn, choking, the man let go of the head and Alfred tossed it forward. Coughing up the alcohol and blood.

Alfred was positioned on top of one of the buildings across from the court house, and was talking to Ludwig over a com.

"That's him pulling up. Do not. I repeat. Do not kill the others, just him."

"Got it," Alfred breathed, looking through his scope and watching the men get out of the car.

"Middle," Ludwig confirmed. "Again, do not kill any others except him."

"Yessir," Alfred complied and there was a heavy silence from Ludwig.

Ignoring it, Alfred lined up his shot, took a breath in and out and squeezed the trigger. There was the kick from the gun and the soft sound of the silencer and a man stumbling, immediately falling to the ground in his own blood. Screams and shouts, the sounds of the cars stopping below, the bullet casing still tinkling across the cement roof.

And then there was Ludwig.

"Do not call me 'sir'."

Alfred laughed softly, as he crawled back away from his sniping spot and quickly retreating to the next few buildings over and into the apartment block to hide out for the next couple hours, leave the gun behind, and return to Ludwig and Feliciano.

"So, why doesn't Ludwig liked being called 'sir'? Does it make him feel old?"

Feliciano smirked and put the plate down he was drying and turned to Alfred sitting at the bar, "Because he calls me 'sir'."

Alfred blushed, and blushed hard. Regretting that he ever asked the question and now had unwanted images flittering through his mind. Nevertheless, Feliciano laughed at his reaction.

"You may be a cold killer now, but you still have the heart of a child."

#sara.est #sara's stupid ass writing #uhhhh maybe i'll just put this in the overall tag #hetalia #BRUH IDK WTF IM DOING W THIS STORY PLS DON'T ATTACK ME