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!



I turn over the mat on the front door. My headphones almost fall out as I reach for the key. That would have stopped my flow of Centuries by Fall Out Boy I was rocking out to. I put them back in as I unlock the front door.

Oh my gosh! Silly me, I forgot to start this logically! It’s just all over the place!

Hi! My name is Michelle Claudia Hoffman. Yes, I realize that is an extremely German sounding name. Pops was born in Germany and moved to America when he was four. Mum’s mum is from Britain, and her dad is from Germany. So yeah, lots of Germans. Naturally, I speak both English and German, but also Spanish and Swedish. I have five siblings, in order from oldest to youngest, Felix, Lukas, Martin, Maxwell, and Tobias. They’re all older than me by at least two years, except Tobias. I’m older by a year. My mum practically burst into tears when the doctors told her she was having a daughter. Naturally, I’m her favorite.

But enough about them! I am 16 years old, old enough to drive! Party!, and stand at five feet, four inches. I have shoulder length dark blonde hair, bright green eyes, and wear contacts. But on occasion I will wear my glasses. I’m pretty adventurous honestly. I still wear a shark tooth around my neck that I got in Hawaii four years ago.

I traveled around a lot in my childhood, and quite frankly I still do. I was born in Canada and lived there until I was three. Then we moved to Wisconsin, and lived there for two years. Then we moved to Sweden and lived there for another three years, then moved to Iceland. We lived there until I was ten. Of course, we went traveling during the summer. I’ve been practically everywhere in the US! Then we decided to move to Georgia, and that’s how I met my best friend, Zara. She lives right next to me, and is probably the only person who can keep up with me.

That’s what brings me back to the story. You see, we just got back from a trip to Italy, and my family crashed from jet-lag. I’m up bright and early though, to see if Zar’s back from her trip to Ukraine. I unlock her front door and step inside. I walk from the front hall into the kitchen. I open the fridge, and get myself a fudge bar from the freezer side. I unwrap it, as the song changes to I Write Sins, Not Tragedies by Panic! At The Disco. I’m a punk rocker, sue me. I walk up to her room, and fling the door open. She’s… not there. Wow, anticlimactic much, Zar? I decide to search the house when I trip on my own shoe lace. I fall backwards into her closet… and backwards… and backwards… and backwards. I feel like I’m being sucked into a black hole. “Holy Shi-” I start screaming, as the pressure builds up around me.

“-IIIIIIIIIIIT!” I scream, tumbling out into whatever is on the other side. I fall for a bit, then land directly on my face. Did I fail to mention that, while I am adventurous, I still need to work on the ‘graceful’ side of adventure. I hear two sets of footsteps, but am too tired and my face hurts too much to look up.

“Woah!” I hear an obnoxious voice from above me that, if I have to say, sounds a lot like the Japanese stereotype of an American accent from one of the people. “See, Matthew! I told you some dudette fell from the sky!” Oh yeah, definitely Japanese-American stereotype.

“Well, I can see that Alfred.” A softer voice says. “What I’m wondering is, is she still alive?”

“Let’s check it out!” I feel a poke on my head. I groan. “Welp, that solves that puzzle!”

“What do we do with her? Will people ask?”

“Well we did just find her, nobody’s gonna hold it on us!”

“I know, but how did she GET here?”

“I hate to interrupt,” I say, lifting my head a little, “and, while I’m not certain about the proper procedure, but I can guess that when a girl falls out of the sky and is still conscious, you maybe, just a guess, help her up?” I say, then plop my head down again.

“Oh my! Of course, where are my manners?” A hand takes mine, and I lift myself up. I rub my eyes, and look at the two idiots before me.

They are both blonde with glasses. One has a smug smirk on his face, and is wearing a bomber jacket in a ‘Check me out, I’m a hero!’ stance. The other one is quieter, with a curl in his hair, and holding a bear. Neither are a site for sore eyes, mind you.

“Why do you two chuckleheads look so Kawaii?” I ask. ‘Some anime crap going down here.’ I think. They just stare at me. “Nevermind.” I grumble. “I have a Zara to find.”


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