Living in Hetalia

This series of books are for real fan fiction fans. If you've ever heard of the show Hetalia (which we’re sure you have if you are reading this), you know all the characters and who they are, and if you’re a I fanfiction fan you’ll understand the concept of what a 2P is. If you do not, a 2P is the exact opposite or violent version of a character in the original anime series. For example, Britain in the original anime is terrible at cooking and accidentally poisons people who eat his food, meanwhile, Britain in 2P form purposefully poisons people, just for one example. This book is about five girls who take a step into both the Hetalia world and the 2P fanfiction Hetalia world and experience what it’s like to live in Hetalia and how it will forever change their lives.
This was written with jigglypuffrevolution-Kayla-on here, on wattpad kaycobeans-McKayla-and our friend Laura. The characters are based off us, Kayla is Zara, I (Judi) am Julie, McKayla is Mich, and Laura is Lylli. Enjoy!



My name is Lyllianne Katherine Tiernelle. And something strange is happening. I haven’t heard from Zara or Julie in a long time, and I’m getting worried. I live in Wisconsin, fairly close to Juju, who lives in Michigan, but right now my family is in Georgia for business reasons. While I was in the area, I figured I should check up on Zara. After all, my phone has never been this quiet before. Zara always makes sure to tell me about all of the little adventures she finds herself having. So I was pretty surprised when I didn’t hear a word from her or Juju for a long time. So now here I am, standing in front of Zara’s house. And the door is unlocked. Right away a chill ran down my spine. Zara never left the door unlocked, just in case a stalker decided to try and waltz in. Cautiously, I tiptoed inside, closing -and locking- the door behind me. It was eerily quiet. Zara’s house was never this quiet, ever. She was always blasting music or watching WWE on the tv, or laughing that slightly-creepy-but-just-sane-enough-not-to-feel-like-you’re-about-to-be-killed laugh that she sometimes got when something was really funny. That girl was wild, but I loved her. Plus she was pretty bad-ass in fights, so she was always awesome to have around in a tight situation. So you can imagine how weird it feels now to walk into complete silence. I want to call out, to see if anyone is home, but I’m too nervous to speak. I don’t have any street smarts whatsoever, so I want to be as careful as possible. I slowly crept up the stairs, each step carefully placed. Once at the top, I opened the door to Zara’s room and peeked inside. No one. Except for an open closet. It was against my better judgement, but my curiosity got the better of me. What I found was a strange door. Opening it, I peeked inside, expecting to find anything from a treasure chest to a dead body. Instead, there was a bright light, and I felt the sensation of falling. And falling. And falling. And still falling. The next thing I felt was the cold hard ground hitting hard against my face. My face… my glasses! Are my glasses okay? I reached up with the arm that hurt less and felt my fingers grasp the familiar edge of the lense. Thank God. I’m blind without them. Then I heard someone coming up behind me. My natural instinct was to run, but of course, I just kind of fell flat on the ground, so I’m not going anywhere. I just managed to turn myself around so that whoever it was couldn’t stare at my butt when I looked up to see that whoever this guy was did not look normal at all. In fact, everything here looks like it’s from an… anime… am I dreaming? Did whoever kidnapped Zara knock me out? No, this feels too real. I’m fully conscious, I’m fully aware. Just then, he reached out a hand to me.

“Why, hello young lady. There seems to be a lot of young women falling from the sky lately. I’m France. It is a pleasure to meet you.” With that, he bowed slightly and kissed my hand he still had trapped in his grasp. Wait a second… France? Something clicked in my mind. This is Hetalia, isn’t it? I looked up at France, a sickeningly romantic look on his face, and pulled my hand from his.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve got to find my friends, Zara and Julie.” At the sound of Zara’s name, France’s face fell.

“Why, she’s insane, that’s what she is!” he said. “I think you’d much prefer coming to my place.” He grabbed my hand again and began to drag me along. I began to panic. This is exactly the kind of situation I was hoping to avoid. Resisting, I tried with desperation to release my hand from his.

“I-I’m sorry, but I really think I should just find my friends now.” But he was not listening.

“I insist that you come to my house, I insist.” Well, now I was straight-out terrified. I yanked my hand until he turned around, and swung my leg up. My aim was true, and I kicked him right between the legs. He immediately bent over on the ground, groaning in pain. I used that chance as my escape.

As I ran off, I called out “Sorry!” over my shoulder. Through his grunts of pain, I could just make out him saying “You’re just as crazy as her!” I couldn’t help but smile at that. But now onto something more important. I have to find my friends, before I get myself into even more trouble.

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