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August 6, 2012
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The…the sun is so bright… you find yourself thinking as you open your eyes to the white sky as your heart pounds against your skull. Your body hurts terribly. And why…does it smell like a Danish?

Fear creeps throughout your body, and you shoot up, realizing that the "white sky" is the ceiling and the bright sun is only coming in through the windows thrown wide-open. And the aroma of apple Danish is coming from the kitchen…but it isn't your kitchen. You're not even in your own room, your own house.

And your head hurts. You've only once ever experienced this crappy feeling, and with the lack of memories of last night, your assumptions are confirmed: this must be a hangover.

As you take in the room, you instantly know where you are when you peer around the messy room, and then you throw the covers off your body to make sure you are still fully-clothed.

You're not. You're wearing your panties and bra, but you're also wearing a large, oversized T-shirt, and taking a whiff of it, you know exactly whose it is.

You get out of the bed, headed downstairs to see if the person of this house is there, to find out where your clothing is at. If it is in his room, you've already prepared a long-distance funeral for it because you don't have the time to search through that mess.

That sweet aroma is coming from the kitchen…

Peeking your head in, you notice a plate of the apple Danishes sitting on the kitchen table next to a mug that reads I'M THE KING full of steaming, hot, delicious coffee. Your stomach gives out a rather embarrassingly loud growl, and as your face flushes red, you move forward to get one. You suspect he won't mind, especially considering he already has you wearing his shirt. That means you must've been sort of naked at one point around him, and if he got a chance to look at your goodies—and he'd probably be the first to—he can at least spare you a Danish.

And these are so good…

"Jeg vidste det!" a voice suddenly declares behind you, and you nearly drop the delicious pastry as you whip around to face the Dane.

Matthias Køhler stands at the entrance to the kitchen, his finger pointed out at you. His hair, which defies gravity, looks as awesome as ever, and you're sure his bathroom has fifteen bottles of hair products just to maintain the "King's" beautiful hair. He is in his usual black and red attire, settling for a pair of dressy, black pants and a loose, red button-up. His light blue eyes are as bright as ever. You hate to admit it, but he looks positively handsome right now.

And did he just exclaim "I knew it" in Danish?

"I'm sorry," you tell him before your hand clamps down over your mouth. You have just forgotten that you still have food in your mouth. You chew quickly and swallow before you attempt to apologize again. "I'm sorry. It feels like I haven't eaten in a week."

"I don't care," he answers as he steps towards, rapidly decreasing the distance between the both of you. "The King has enough to spare a little to his peasants," he murmurs as he nears his face to yours.

"Peasant?" you ask as you turn your head to the side. "Just because you're rich as hell doesn't mean you need to be an ass about it." You jolt your whole body away from his, placing the half-eaten Danish on the platter. He simply laughs at your reaction before picking up his mug of coffee and taking a drink. "They're…they're good, by the way. The Danishes."

"I know," he answers.

Right. You can't compliment the guy because he's so incredibly arrogant! The nerve of him!

"Do you want some coffee?" he asks you, offering the mug.

You shake your head, refusing to take any more of his hospitality. You just need to find your clothing and wallet and go home. Right now, that's all you feel like doing.

But there's something you need to ask him first.

"Why am I here?" you suddenly inquire.

"You were drunk!" he exclaims happily. "I've never seen you drunk before! It was so awesome! You are fucking awesome when it comes to drunken partying."

The blood rushes out of your face as your arms go limp, and you sway a bit before catching yourself against the edge of the table. It feels like the world is spinning around you, and you have the urge to vomit. "What?" you choke out. You know you're in hangover mode, but how the hell did you get drunk?

"Yep! Prussia spiked your drink because he said you're more fun when you're drunk! And when you began to get tipsy, you started ordering tons of alcohol and partying it up and tearing off your clothing and—oh!" He reaches into his pocket and pulls out your wallet. You wrap your fingers around it, gripping it tightly as your body begins to tremble. "So, yeah, you ripped apart the clothing you came in last night."

Last night. Alfred Jones had a party last night at his place, and you came because Alfred was your best friend. You normally didn't get drunk because you shied away from alcohol; drunk you is crazy you, and you prefer to be level-headed you.

"You certainly know how to party, (name)!" Matthias laughs. "Last night was wild! Alfred had to pry you away from the booze."

Your eyes fell on his oversized T-shirt. "W-why…why am I at your place?"

"I was taking you home, but you passed out, so I carried you here instead."

"We…we didn't do anything…right?"

He grabs you by the wrist, pulling you close to him. "Did you want us to?"

You jerk your arm back. "O-of course not! I was just making sure!"

He laughs and strokes the side of your face. "I wouldn't have minded."

Your face turns red, and you find your hands becoming clenched into fists. "I'm leaving!"

"You're not hungry?" he asks, and he seems genuinely confused at your sudden burst of anger.

My God, Matthias might be one of the densest people you know!

"Are you really going to leave in that?" he questions when you don't answer his first question.

"Well, I'm sure enough people have already seen me in less, so this should be a step up, huh?" I snap.

There is a sudden rush of feet, and you are twirled around into the arms of the tall Dane. His lips are at your mouth in a fury, and you're too stunned to move or to yell at him or to protest. He catches your lack of response, pulling away, but he presses his forehead against yours, giving you a sweet smile.

"Jeg elsker dig," he murmurs to you. "Fortæl mig, at du også elsker mig."

You can't breathe. Matthias Køhler…just told you he loves you, just asked you to tell him that you love him back… Your chest starts to rise rapidly as you break away from his embrace. There's no way he could mean that… He's teased you since middle school, and he's been with tons of other girls, tons prettier than you. You've always been a stick in the mud, not to mention your parents had never had much, and since you moved out six years ago and went to college, you quickly became dirt-poor. Your job only covers the bills and food, as lovely as your job is.

Matthias has always had the world handed to him in a silver platter. His parents have tons of money, his grandmother left him all of her inheritance money and her estate, and even if he's annoying as hell, he has tons of friends. He has girls swooning after him everywhere he walks, and you only once had a boy interested in you, but he ended up moving away to a different country before anything happened.

Right now, you don't want to waste your time and efforts on dating, especially when it is on this drunken bastard. He says he loves you, but you've heard him tell this to hundreds of other girls. He's only going to get you, use you, and then leave you.

You're sure of it.

"(Name)…?" he asks softly, catching the hesitant look on your face.

But you've always thought him attractive, especially when he's speaking his native language. You would give anything up for him to say those words to you and actually mean it.

"I need to go," you told him, trying to sound rather forceful. "I have to get to—" You cut yourself off, reminding yourself that you don't need to tell him anything. He's not your boyfriend, your father, your keeper. Besides, you really should just go and change into normal clothing now. "Goodbye."

He doesn't say anything else, just watches you go.

And he wishes he had said something, had done something, but by the time he starts to regret that, you're already too far away.

***

"So, that party was really wild last night, love."

Your eyes shoot up at your manager, the owner of the bookstore you work at. Arthur Kirkland cracks a smile as he starts unloading boxes of fresh, new books.

"My God…I am so sorry," you mumbled.

"That American idiot shouldn't have introduced alcohol to the party, really. Besides, your drink was spiked, wasn't it?" Arthur and you are really good friends, and seeing the rut you were in when you failed to find a job after graduating from college, he offered you a job at his new, quaint bookstore. You love working here, even if the pay isn't as high as you would like it to be. "I can't believe that Dane took such good care of you though," he continues. "He put his coat on you after you…er…tore your clothing off."

"My God," you complain as you hide your face with your hands. "I can't believe I di—wait. Matthias gave me his coat?"

Arthur nods. "He made sure none of the guys took advantage of you and took you home. He even tried to stop you from drinking too much and held your hair as you vomited all over Gilbert's shoes." Arthur laughs at that, remembering the event.

Matthias took care of you…but he hadn't made it sound that way.

"I guess I should probably go thank him after this," you whisper, more to yourself than to Arthur.

Arthur smiles at your words, but he says nothing else, simply continues to unpack the boxes.

***

There is no one at Matthias's place. You huff out a ton of air and decide to head home. It'll be a long walk in the dark, but you really can't afford a cab.

Your eyes rise from the sidewalk and meet a man's. He sits on a sidewalk bench, doesn't say a word, and you move past him.

But he starts to follow you, slowly and softly.

Your walk cuts through mostly residential places, so there's no where you can go to get away from this guy.

And then you realize that halfway home, there is the bar. The bartender, Allistor, is someone you know quite well. He'll let you wait out the creepy guy following you, and if he doesn't leave, you can wait until Allistor's shift ends. He'll get you home safely, you're sure of it.

You speed up a bit, and the minutes feel like hours. You're surprised he hasn't tried to anything yet, seeing as how it's a twenty minute walk to the bar, but you're glad he isn't trying anything.

Your heart hammers inside your chest, and your ribs feel bruised from this action, from the short, choppy, quick breaths you keep taking, as if you're running a marathon.

When you see the bar, you try hard not to break into a run, but when you're only a few feet away, you're definitely quick to rush to it and throw the door open, stepping inside. And it smells like a hell of a lot of beer in here. The smell is repugnant, but it's better than the possibility of getting raped by some stalker.

You hear the man enter after you, and you quickly find a seat at the front of the bar, by the counter. He finds a spot three stools down, and your eyes desperately search the bar before falling on Allistor. You wave at him, telling him to come over, and he excuses himself so he can talk to you.

"What you doing here, lass?" he asks you.

"There is a man three stools down to my right. He's been following me since Matthias's house." The expression he makes asks you all the questions he needs to ask you. "I got hella drunk last night after Gilbert spiked my drink, and Matthias took care of me, even got me a change of clothing, kinda, and letting me crash at his place."

"Oh, Mark, you do it so well~"

Your head turns to the voice of that, hoping that by "Mark", this lady doesn't mean "Matthias".

Annnnd…she does mean Matthias.

You find yourself staring at the drunk Dane as he runs his hands over the bimbo bitch, and you feel fury hitting you from all sides. He tells you he loves you and then he goes, gets drunk, and drapes himself all around some woman he has probably never met and will probably never seen again after tonight?

He has a ton of nerve…

But wait…your stalker is a bit more of a pressing matter.

"Do you mind taking me home, Allistor?" you ask him, but your voice has lost all the cordiality that was left behind. He nods at you. "Thank you. And can I possibly have some to drink? Anything nonalcoholic."

He hands you a glass of water, and you find yourself drinking it all in a few seconds.

Stupid Dane.

Stupid stalker.

Today just sucks ass.

"Hey, Allistor, can I get another round for me and the sexy Maria—"

"Miriam!"

"Miriam!" he corrects himself with a loud laugh. "And…and…and…holy shit, no way…" You hear a thud, and Miriam starts to let out a string of whines and swears, and steps are coming your way. A warm hand touches your shoulder, and you jump, sucking in a large mass of air sharply. "Calm down, min kære. (Name), it's just me. You're not drinking alcohol, are you?"

He just called you "my love"!

But…but he's here with Miriam.

You stand to face him, your eyes flickering over to your stalker, and you find his eyes are seriously focused on you, wondering what you're going to do next.

An idea hits you.

You pull his arms around your waist gently before you wrap yours around his neck, and you bring your voice down to a whisper, "I went to your place, but you weren't there. I need to talk to you... m-min kære." You're pretty sure you just butchered those two words, but Matthias's eyes widen. "I'm sorry about how we left things off this morning."

"Really?"

"Of course."

His face lowers down slowly, his breath spreading down to your neck, and he then nuzzles your neck.

While you're feeling guilty about using him, you're also enjoying this immensely.

You hear someone mutter a few curse words, and opening your eyes, you peer over Mathias's shoulder, your eyes following your stalker straight out the door.

"He's gone," Allistor mentions, and Matthias pulls back in confusion. The perplexity in his expression only deepens when you pull away from him, turning to your old friend. "You still wanna head home with me, lassie?"

"Of course. It's safest."

"Creep?" Matthias asks.

You turn to him as your cheeks turn a crimson color. "Your…your girlfriend looks like she'd like you back now." Your gaze hits the floor. "Thanks for playing along. I really did go to your house to thank you for last night and to apologize for acting so horrible to you this morning. Some man followed me, so I stepped in here so I could head home with Allistor, to escape from that guy."

"You think I was playing along?" he asked, and Matthias's voice is slowly rising in anger and volume.

Allistor shoots you a look before he sneaks away to attend to his other costumers and get away from the drama bomb that is exploding.

"Can we talk about this elsewhere?" you ask as you take notice of the growing number of eyes falling on the both of you.

"No, we will talk about it now!" he shouts, and the whole bar silences, everyone staring at you two. "I've been in love with you since seventh grade, and the one moment I get the courage to finally confess to you, you blow me off and then use me? I wasn't playing along!"

"Matthias," you hiss. "Please, don't speak so loudly."

"I am in love with you, (name)! Jeg har altid elsket dig!"

And something inside you starts to tick. If Matthias wants a show, then he'll damn well get a show!

"Then how about all the whores you've been with?"

Your sudden burst stuns him, and Miriam makes a sound. It takes Matthias a while to regain from it, but he then quickly jumps in.

"You've never looked my way except to call me a failure and shake your head in disgust about anything that has to do with me! Of course I went out with a lot of girls! I wanted you to notice me! I wanted you to be jealous!" He grasps your face. "For once, I wanted you to be the one looking at me, to wishing you were the one next to me. You're so insanely beautiful, (name), and I love everything about you. All your guy friends—they've all had crushes on you at one point, did you know? And they were tons closer than I'll ever get to you."

"Matthias…" you whisper. " Selvfølgelig har jeg bemærket, at du." You suck in all your arrogance, deciding honesty is the best here. "When you kissed me this morning…you have no idea how you left me feeling, do you? I wanted to say that I loved you back, but I couldn't…because you've been with all those girls, and I thought you'd only break my heart."

"Kære," he murmurs as his lips brush yours, " Jeg vil aldrig knuse dit hjerte."

And then he pulls you in for a real kiss, sweeter than this morning's. And this time, you respond with the same amount of fervency. Everyone at the bar breaks into hollering and applause, rooting on your silly, blind romance.

And through the kisses, you find yourself smiling.

This Dane is a lot sweeter than he wants others to see, and you love it.

***
Extended Ending
You two are on his couch, nursing his head on your lap as you hold up an icepack to his cheekbone. After the whole confession at the bar, Miriam had gotten pretty pissed, and when he and you pulled back, she had marched up to him and punched him before shooting you a crude look.

"I am not a whore," she had hissed at you both before dramatically exiting the bar.

The Dane sighs from his spot and says, "Maybe I should have confessed back in seventh and saved me all this trouble. But back then, it felt so much easier to tease you for your dorky braids and perfect grades than confessing."

You hit his shoulder. "My hair was not dorky!" He sticks his tongue out at you. "Watch it, Matt, or I'm going home."

"But I secretly liked it," he murmurs as he snuggles close to your stomach. "Don't go, (name). Stay the night with me, please."

You kiss his forehead and tell him yes.
MY GOD. WHAT HAVE I JUST WRITTEN.

WHAT IS ALL THIS ANGST.

ANGSTANGSTANGST

I felt like writing about Denmark, and I read like fifty Denmark reader inserts while I wrote it.

This doesn't feel like my best work, guise. :u Denmark feels too OCC. :c

And I'm too lazy to give you translations. P:

:icondenmarkplz: and the rest of the Hetalian characters here don't belong to me, but they do belong to this guy: :iconhimaruyaplz:.

You...will soon belong to :iconsexydenmark2plz:...once you become one with him, of course.

Thanks for reading~
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:iconprincessdeme0425:
PrincessDeme0425 Featured By Owner Jul 4, 2014
1. Is LSP near here? All I hear is "DRAMA BOMB!!".
2. ITS CRAZY!!!!! 😆 😜 😋 😝 😘 😙 😗 😚 🙌
Reply
:iconforeverbeforenight:
foreverbeforenight Featured By Owner Jul 6, 2014  Hobbyist Artist
Sorry?
Reply
:iconprincessdeme0425:
PrincessDeme0425 Featured By Owner Jul 8, 2014
Don't apologize
Reply
:iconsarsychen:
sarsychen Featured By Owner Apr 29, 2014
This is my most favorute story! It makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside! :)
Could somebody translate the rest of the Danish for me..? :/
Reply
:iconsarsychen:
sarsychen Featured By Owner Jun 2, 2014
Its k
Reply
:iconforeverbeforenight:
foreverbeforenight Featured By Owner May 29, 2014  Hobbyist Artist
Oh, thanks!!

And sorry!
Reply
:iconshinihime964:
Shinihime964 Featured By Owner Apr 13, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
It's nice.  I like the imagery on  how reader-chan gets drunk.
Reply
:iconforeverbeforenight:
foreverbeforenight Featured By Owner May 29, 2014  Hobbyist Artist
aha thanks!
Reply
:iconshinihime964:
Shinihime964 Featured By Owner Jun 3, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Yup.  I'm glad I don't drink.
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:iconcommandercoconutmilk:
z..zis is soo awesome!! O///O D-denmark... :3
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