Hetalia Italy Chibi Novels & Stories

***Flashbacks of the wedding night*** Aleksandr Fedorov chuckled, seeing his enemy in such a vulnerable state. “And they call you The Princess of Cosa Nostra. What a shame, Tigritsa!” He snorted while sitting on the couch leisurely, setting his intense gaze on her quivering body.

Smirk widened. “What?” I loosened my grip slightly. My eyes trailed down his body. Fuck. His chest. Right over his heart. My name in bold script: “Levi.” A small crown sat above it—like the one on my neck. From his ear down the side of his neck: “Lë:vi” in elegant Italian script. Then across his lower abdomen, where the V dipped toward his groin: “Levi King” in thorned lettering that wrapped around his hip like it was claiming him too.

"When she has her mind set she doesn't stop." "Italian Men," I tease. "They are so protective." I kiss Nic's cheek and he tries to hold back a grin. "I'll see you in three days." "Three days," he nod. "Addio Bella." Translations: Sei il peggiore- you are the worst Ti amo- I love you Addio Bella- Bye beautiful Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to leave any feedback. I love you all ❤️

“Then let's dig in.” And together, all four of them had their dinner; two of which ate hurriedly like pigs while the other two could only watch in amusement while occasionally stealing glances at each other. ▬▬▬▬▬●●▬▬▬▬▬ Translations Piccolo — Little one Come stai amore — How are you, love? Il mio amore — My love Mimma — Child Prendersi cura di voi stessi — Take good care of yourself.

Eleven years ago, At Ibaraki Prefecture High School Akira Kaneko, a sixteen-year-old high school student, possessed a unique beauty with her short black hair, round gray eyes, and lovely brown complexion. With a sharp nose and standing at approximately 152 cm, her friends affectionately called her “Chibi,” a Japanese word for small. She was a hardworking student who cherished self-love but was delicate in matters of the heart.

The boys wriggled excitedly beside her, strapping themselves in with Alessandro’s help. "Mama, Mama," Matteo chirped, tugging at her sleeve. "What's Italy like?" "Is it big?" Antonio added, his brown eyes wide. Antonia laughed softly, smoothing their hair back from their foreheads. "Italy is beautiful," she said. "There are old cities made of stone, and streets that wind like rivers. There are mountains and oceans and vineyards as far as the eye can see." "Are there toys?" Matteo asked seriously. Antonia smiled wider.

She looked so serious, so much like Gabriel. "What shall I call you?" "I don't know. You can't call me daddy otherwise every time you call us we'll both answer, and we won't know which one you meant." "Hmm." Nick smiled, she'd picked that up from Millie she was always hmm-ing "Here in Italy, children call their daddy, papa. How about that? "Papa," she said, trying the word out "You can be my papa then." "And you can be my little Kittie Kat." He smiled at her trying to blink away the tears.

I leaned back slightly, turning my head just enough to look at him. “Well,” I said, a small smirk forming despite myself, “how about whether I should be scared that you have a… questionable tattoo.” His grin widened innocently. “What do you mean questionable?” “You know…” I made a motion of glancing down to his waist area and then bringing my gaze back up. He was grinning and I could feel the heat fill my cheeks. “A cock tattoo” “Cock… really? That is what you Italians call a dick?” “It sounds better”

I love you! Enjoy 😊 ~-~ "Is that the rude Italian guy?" Charlie asked dumbfoundedly, gaping at our door. "If your definition of rude Italian guy is Gabriel, then yes, yes he is," I muttered, walking back to the kitchen. "OPEN UP, VANCH!" "Did he just call you Vanch?" "Yes, yes he did," I answered him while picking up the pack of flour Charlie threw to me earlier. "VANCHEL AMARATI, OPEN UP!"

Filippo leans over me, leans his head against the wall and bites his lower lip with a smile. "Oh, dannazione!", "Oh, shit!", I mutter in Italian.