#here's a list of things you shouldn't do here's a list of why hetalia is bad here's why you shouldn't be excited for hws

[tahanann]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮

❝ To whoever finds these letters, I hope they reach you well ❞ ✎▫✧⭒....

Fandom: Hetalia Relationship: F/M Pairing: Alfred F. Jones (America) / (Female) Reader Chapter list: 00, 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14 Also posted on: AO3, Wattpad, Quotev

Chapter 11: " 27 " ✎▫✧⭒…

Meetings at the office were never really a good thing, especially when it's just between two people. (Y/n) sat in the office, waiting for her boss to arrive. She had been called her earlier...and she doesn't really know why. She had been doing her work and submitting papers in time before they were due. All the reports hit the quota and nothing gets away from her radar. She even goes as far double-check things. 

The woman played with her fingers as the time passed. The silence around her was deafening. Not even the loud hallways outside were helping her. They all sound mumbled and distant, and normally those noises would be too loud. Her nervousness made her listen to her heartbeat more. The loud thumps played in her ears as her brain filled up the silence as best as it could.

Until the door behind her swung open and her boss, a tall, brooding woman, walked in with files in her hand. Those were placed gently on the black tabletop and the light was adjusted to shine on the beige folder. The woman in charge didn't open the file, instead, she connected her hands together and rested her chin on top.

"Do you know why I called you to my office today?" Her boss, Sharon, asked. 

(Y/n) found the courage to look directly at her. "No," she answered. It was a simple response but many things can be taken from her voice and her mannerism. Sharon was a smart woman and knew when something was troubling her employees. She knew when another woman was stressed, emotionally unavailable, and simply out of it.

The (h/c) haired woman had been showing signs of this. Despite her ability to produce satisfactory work, it was clear that she wasn't acting the same as before. (Y/n) had been working here for years, was close with almost everyone, and now she's shutting herself away. She rarely talks to anyone in the office, with the exception of Felicia, and never properly greets anyone anymore.

A major behavior shift was suspicious to her boss. Sharon knows those signs all too well, but she didn't want to press further until she deemed it too late.

"It's about your behavior," Sharon replied, no longer keeping (Y/n) in the dark. "You've been changing the past few months. Sure, we accept a change here, but this is clearly for the worst rather than the best." 

So that's what she was called for.

(Y/n)'s boss has always cared for her. She cared for everyone. She was seen as some sort of benevolent boss who never hesitated to set what was right for everyone. (Y/n) felt almost guilty to be put in here. With everything going on with her, she felt as if being here and getting talked to was a burden for her boss. This meeting took hours away from what Sharon could be normally doing. She could have been helping her peers out. 

The (h/c) haired woman found it hard to respond to her boss. This almost felt like pity for her sorry state. 

The silence from (Y/n) was taken as a sign to keep talking. "You know everyone's been worried about you," Sharon sighed.

"They shouldn't. I'm fine," (Y/n) smiled, "There's no need to worry about me. I can make things work out." It's better to dismiss everything rather than actually address things. The woman was aware that she was going downhill. It's been happening for a while now, but it's nothing that she can't crawl out of. 

Right?

"Listen if you need to take more breaks, you're more than welcome to. You still have available vacation days, so why not take a break for a while. Give yourself some space and time." Her boss had an empathetic smile on her, which (Y/n) saw as more of a pity smile. Still, she sent him another smile back before shaking her head.

"I'll take those vacation days when I want to," (Y/n) hummed, "I'll be okay. I'm not on the brink just yet." 

Sharon nodded. Although she would press even further, the woman seemed to be okay. That wasn't the case...but it's hard to make her open up. She'd have to depend on Felicia to get her to talk, considering that they're closer than anyone around here. The boss let her leave the room, leaving her contemplating. 

(Y/n) will never know what her boss is thinking. She has a clue that it's about her, but she doesn't know what that woman is planning. All (Y/n) can do right now is wait. 

Wait in her office space, typing on her computer and finishing reports. Wearing a fabricated smile instead of her usual frown. Everyone's suspicious of her. She needs to get rid of that.

No one needs to worry about her. Why should they? She's okay. She will be.

Throughout the entire day, (Y/n) was by herself, working to distract herself from everything, from her obsession. 

Her thoughts.

Her emotions.

She left work with a smile on her face but entered her car with a frown. (Y/n) stayed in her car for a while. Her hands tightly gripped the steering wheel as she stared at the sky outside. It was still bright, with orange and red forming the prettiest combination.

The parking lot was peaceful and quiet. The atmosphere enabled her thoughts to spring out from the back. They swarmed, filling her mind with overwhelming feelings. The woman's eyes relaxed as she relived the emotions she went through this morning. Her hands trembled but kept their place on the steering wheel. Soon enough her lips followed, and her eyes became misty. 

(Y/n) pursed her lips together after she sighed. She needed another distraction. She started her car and drove away from her work. The woman made sure that she drove safely on the road. She didn't care to speed and followed every single rule on her way home. Upon pulling up on her driveway, she hurried inside her home and locked the front door. 

She tossed her belongings on the couch and enclosed herself in her bedroom. The lights were dimmed and she didn't bother changing to more comfortable clothes. She sunk into her bed, in her work clothes, as she felt the despair she hid away from her. Normally, she doesn't burst into tears upon getting home. 

Today was different though. Maybe the bottle decided to crack open and spill out everything she's been keeping inside. 

The woman laid on her bed, staring at the ceiling, as her eyes continued to well tears. The droplets fell down her face. Eventually, it all escalated and she stayed in her bed, crying.

Such a pitiful state she's in. 

(Y/n) kept her dormant condition until she ran dry. She took in a deep breath from her lips and let it escape her afterward. She continued this exercise until she could force another smile. The woman managed to gather the energy to sit up. She stripped out of her work clothes and slipped into comfortable pajamas. She made her way to the kitchen where she ate dinner and moped around in her living room. She watched a comforting video she always turned to whenever she was feeling under the weather.

Although it seemed futile, it gathered a few laughs from her.

She walked back up to her room, trudging the floors, and sat on her bed. Her (e/c) eyes stared at the drawer that kept letters from Jones. Her thoughts resurfaced, but her psyche did its best to keep them tucked away to prevent another session. 

(Y/n) had Jones in her mind, the perfect image of him at least. The mysterious, faceless soldier wore a green uniform and gleaming glasses. His smile sat on his featureless face. Sure, to the normal eye, this depiction of him would seem odd, but to the woman, it was her everything. It was her sweetheart.

He was hers...she was his. 

The woman stayed dazed, staring blankly at the drawer that kept everything that reminded her of Jones. Her lips no longer had to force a smile, as one naturally crept up. 

"Jones," She breathed out. How her heart seemed to sing for him, as if he were truly there, truly alive and well. Her delusions ran rampant in her mind as she stayed in her state. As much as she wanted to open one of the older letters to fuel her fantasy, she refused to move. She feared that one touch of the most recent ones would break everything she's dreamed of. 

And no one wants their fantasy broken. Not in this condition. 

So (Y/n) detracted and brought herself out of her blank state to fall into bed. There she lay with her phone, browsing until her body passed out from exhaustion. In her dreams, she lived in a world fueled by her love and imagination, where she danced with Jones. She could never hear his voice, but she could read his lips. 

He called her baby, sweetheart, angels. Anything that could make the girl's heart sing. Their hands were intertwined and never departed. They were as close as they could be while dancing to jazz. It was, as if, they were bound by the waist by an invisible string. It kept them together. The closeness brought both of them comfort.

But everything was robbed from her as soon as she opened her eyes. 

It was dark in her room. Her (e/c) eyes focused on the light that peeked through her blinds. The warm summer breeze pushed through the window and kissed her bare shoulder. It brought her warmth, but it wasn't enough to comfort her. An underlying dread washes over her as she realized that it was a new day.

Another letter from Jones. 

(Y/n) stuck around in bed more. She knew that as soon as she got up, she had to open another letter. Even if she told herself she didn't need to, it was hard not to. She did everything in her power to make time for herself, but her body knew she still had to.

It made a reason for her to get up. Her stomach started growling, urging her to get up and head to the kitchen. 

To start the routine. 

The woman knew she couldn't starve herself. Hesitantly, she pushed herself up. (Y/n) made sure not to look at the spot in bed that had the letters tucked underneath. She walked to the bathroom to freshen up. She wanted to head straight to the kitchen, but her body forced her back into her room. She happened to stop in front of the spot.

Her lips and hands quivered as she reached down to grab the box filled with letters. She plucked one out and ripped through the envelope. She was careful not to rip its contents. Her (e/c) eyes studied its contents, finding another journal scrap, but it was structured like a letter. (Y/n) wasn't sure what pile to put it in, the collection of journal scraps or the letters pile.

This kind of format was odd. It was either-or, but never between. Still, there was little to no organization to the thoughts being poured into the paper. It felt more like ramblings. There were tear stains on the paper, but that was no longer an oddity for her. The woman didn't want to analyze it further, fearing that she'll get too into it and she'll spiral down with him today.

"Good morning Jones," (Y/n) softly smiled, "How are you, soldier." 

Good morning my darling angel, The world seems to hate us a little more today. Maybe there's no more saving grace for us soldiers anymore. Maybe it's truly not giving us another chance. I have been praying every single day that God would do something, but he's done nothing but watch. It's all like a game of chess, except I can't control anything. I'm just another goddamn pawn. I can't say that you are too, baby, since you're all the way back home. You're safe. You're like the queen. You're being protected by the others back at home. I'm doing all I can to protect you. I can't change my fate or anything, but I wish I did. I wish I still had some saving grace. I wish I had something done to me so I didn't have to stay here anymore. I need a miracle, but getting those involves God's charity. And God is cruel today. We lost someone and normally, I show a lot of pity to the guys we've lost, but, this one is different, baby. It's someone I didn't think we could lose. Charles. We've lost him.  It's just me and Alex now. And you know, it's all my fault. It always is. I was put in the same squad as Charles today. Things were going so well, but he got himself blown up. He's an idiot, isn't he? I try to tell myself that, because I know if I carry this guilt with me, I might as well be six feet under.  As much as I dislike him, he still put the effort into saving me. He told me to duck and cover. He told me that he'll take the shot and clear out the path ahead in front of us. He had better eyesight than me, he said, but this damn fool couldn't see the incoming grenade headed straight for us. I know I tried to tell him, but I suppose the shock was hitting me.  I saw him explode. He had lost his leg, but he was still breathing. I tried to save him as best I could, but it all happened too fast that all I got from it was "tell my girlfriend that I love her. Send her the letter and tell her that I died in a good way, in full pieces." I did what I was told because that's all I'm good for. It hurt to write this time. Not because of the shock, but because of everything that's happened to me and Charles. I wish he still told me that he hated me, so I could stop thinking about him. But he still cared for me. I hate that fact. It hurts me too much. The image is burning in my head and I can't get it out. As much as I pick at my head and try to get it out, it's staying there. Charles, that idiot, still saved me, even if he could have just left me there and ran away himself.  I can't handle it, you know. And I think this is karma for everything. For shooting so many people, so many other soldiers. This is something God is playing against me. I'm losing control of everything. I feel like I can't breathe. I can't. It's hard to. I pray and pray that everything is fine, but nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  I've lost faith in God, for all he does is play tricks on vulnerable men who risk their lives every day. He can't hear us amidst all the bombardments and bombs.  But you. You're here. I have faith in us, no matter how far apart we are from each other. I can lean on you to be there for me. I pray that God hears you back at home, where it's peaceful and safe. My darling angel, maybe you can tell him my messages and prayers. I pray that he does. I pray that you tell him everything. I pray that you still have me in your thoughts, in your prayers, because I have you in mine.  Continue to be safe back at home. Dearly yours,  A.F.J

(Y/n)'s stomach twisted and turned, sending her emotions that put her through another spiral. Her shaking hands brought the letter to her lips. She placed a soft, kiss against the paper and lingered there for a moment. The man was going through so much, and she was here to listen to him spill out his emotions. If only she had some way of telling him that there was someone actually reading everything he sent. 

It would have brought him the comfort that he needed. He wouldn't have to force himself to believe that his beloved was listening to him. (Y/n) could tell that his girlfriend wasn't. She didn't think about the technicalities anymore. She knew it was cruel to leave him hanging with hope. 

How could anyone do that to him? If anything, the girlfriend was cruel and the more she read the letters, the more disdain she grew.

"I'm sorry Jones, I wish I had you in mine," (Y/n) whispered. It took a while for the woman to keep herself together. She placed the letter back in its home and hid it in the drawer filled with his letters. She lingered in her bed longer, her eyes blankly staring at the drawers. 

"I wish I could have you."

Her lips arched into another small, pathetic smile. (Y/n) pried her eyes away from the sight and pushed herself up. She headed to the kitchen where she prepared her meal, alone. In her thoughts, the perfect version of Jones haunted her. She imagined him around her, watching her cook. It made her genuinely smile. Her own version of reality continued to play, but it all stopped when she heard her phone buzz.

(Y/n) arched a brow as she grabbed her phone and picked up the call. 

"Hey," a soft voice spoke through the speaker, "I just wanted to check up on you since, you know I don't really see you walk out anymore."

"Matthew," (Y/n) replied, "I'm okay. I just haven't found anything interesting to do lately so I've been cooped up in my home a lot. Why? What's up?"

"I've just been wondering where you were, since you don't really respond to my texts anymore. The only time we ever really see each other is when we sometimes see each other on the driveway," Matthew mumbled, "I wanted to hang out with you, but you seem really busy all the time so I never really bothered."

"I'm sorry Mattie," (Y/n) spoke, "I uhmm...I'm free right now, actually. Maybe we can go somewhere together."

"I'm actually planning on bringing Kuma with me to a park. He needs to take a walk and maybe burn a little chub. Do you wanna go with me?" 

"I'd love to."

Their call ended then and (Y/n) put the phone down. She continued preparing her meal and finished as soon as she heard her doorbell ring. She walked over and opened the front door, showing her face to Matthew. She was glad that she managed to fix her appearance before him. She doesn't want him asking about her heavy eyebags and bloodshot eyes. 

Kuma barked happily, pulling Matthew closer to her so he could sniff her. He then rubbed himself around her, with his tail wagging fast that his butt started to follow along. The puppy wanted pets and of course (Y/n) obliged. She exchanged greetings with Matthew before she started cooing at the whimpering dog. 

"He's missed you, you know?" Matthew grinned, "He doesn't even get this excited to see me and honestly I'm a little jealous." 

"Aww...sorry puppy, I was busy," (Y/n) hummed. She gently pets behind his ear, causing the dog's eyes to droop a little. "I don't have any treats for you right now, but he's free to roam around the house for now. I have to eat my breakfast before we can head out."

The Canadian nodded. The duo followed their friend to the kitchen, where they sat and talked for a while. Most of it is just catching up. Nothing too...intrusive in (Y/n)'s opinion. Although, she knows that Matthew has a clue as to what's wrong with her. She doesn't want his concern either, even if it might help. Her speculations are entirely just that. 

Speculations.

She doesn't have any solid proof, but she'll keep her guard.

When she was finished with her food, she excused herself from the dining table. (Y/n) went on ahead to change and touch up her features before grabbing her essentials. After, she called Matthew over to the front door, and together they started walking. 

Idle chatter springs between them, filling up the empty space. It would have been awkward to walk in silence, especially when there's a friend who's gone missing for a while. Matthew talked mostly about his troubles which were lightweight. There had been trouble at his work concerning polar bear habitat conservation. It was a serious topic and Matthew had so much passion for it.

(Y/n) had nothing much to say, as she was afraid of spilling too much and confirming Matthew's concerns. The blonde wasn't much to pry either and opted to continue the conversation when she didn't want to. Matthew was a good man...but to burden him with what she was troubled with is too much for her to handle. 

Eventually, they landed at the park that was near their neighborhood. There was a dog park for Kuma to run and socialize with other dogs. (Y/n) and Matthew found a comfortable spot beneath the shade to keep away from the summer sun. 

They were comfortable and (Y/n) had a good distraction from her thoughts. They weren't as troubling today, but the account written in today's opened letter was bothering her. The woman sunk in her spot, her eyes stuck on Kuma's white fur. 

"Something's troubling you," Matthew mumbled.

(Y/n) arched a brow but never looked at Matthew. "What do you mean?"

"I can see it in your eyes. Your eyebags look heavier than usual. You've been isolating yourself for god knows how long and your voice seems so uninterested in everything." Matthew looked down at his hands. "I...I've been there before you know...I know stuff...I know things that can probably help you if you let me."

She supposed her absence from Matthew's life and her appearance gave everything away. Matthew was always the smart one. The most emotionally aware person she's ever met.

"So it's that obvious?" (Y/n) let out a dry laugh. "I'm okay, Mattie, I'm just a little tired from everything. Work is putting a lot of stress on me, you know? I've been getting through it. I haven't done anything too outrageous, I suppose. I should be okay."

Another excuse to push away someone who's concerned. Great.

"But, you know there's eventually going to be a point where you will do something, right?" Matthew mumbled. He moved closer so he could keep their conversation more private. "Look I'm super worried about you."

"You sound like my other friend," (Y/n) smiled.

"Are you saying another person knows?" 

"Yeah. Doesn't really matter though. Not like it's taking over. I still have a bit of control over my life." (Y/n) shrugged, "It's been going at it for a while, but I don't really care if I'm miserable about it or not. I'll get over it, maybe, and then I'll be okay."

"You can't just keep denying it exists. If you need help then you need help," Matthew spoke. He was going to go off on some tangent about getting aid for her mental illness.

But he doesn't. He doesn't want to push her boundaries. There are different types of people that deal with their own issues. If she can handle it her own way, then he'll let her. He just wanted her to know that he knows what going on. 

"Look...if you ever need to call someone or you want to just talk to them in person, I'm available. You already have my number and stuff so feel free to, okay?" He gently leaned against her. It was his way of giving her comfort. "I'm literally right across the door. Just give me a knock and Kuma will just start barking at me to get to the door. I'm sure the lil guy doesn't mind helping out."

"You're the second person to offer me help you know?" (Y/n) giggled. "Said the exact same thing, actually."

"Oh?" Matthew smiled, "Well I'm certainly not going to be your last, nor am I going to be just your backup caller. Not saying that you should give me a call first, but...just a suggestion."

"I'll think about it Mattie," (Y/n) hummed, "For now...Let me try and sort through this myself. Just need some time, that's all."

And a lot of distractions. 

"I hope you know that I'm putting a lot of trust into youto keep yourself in check," Matthew murmured.

"And I promise I won't let you down."

(Y/n) sent him a small, authentic smile. Matthew kept himself pressed against her, although, he made sure not to put his entire weight on her. The woman returned the gesture and they balanced each other out.

For the rest of that day, Matthew put as much effort into making her happy. He invited her over to her house to help him cook dinner for two. After dinner, (Y/n) stayed over longer to watch a recorded hockey match with the blonde. It was easy to say that Matthew enjoyed it more than she did, but she liked the company. Once the night ended, Matthew walked her back to her home.

(Y/n) lingered at the frame of her front door. "Thanks for hanging out with me, Mattie. I really appreciate it." 

"It's no problem," Matthew smiled, "Besides...we needed to have one soon anyway." 

The duo whispered their good nights and soon (Y/n) locked her doors. She received a text from her friend and it put a smile on her face. "Don't be a stranger! I mean it this time! Don't disappear on me :(" the text read. The woman replied "I won't. Don't worry. I'll try not to, but I can't make any promises! <3" 

(Y/n) fixed herself up for the night. Now basking in the silence of her cold home, she was left with her thoughts. They drifted back to what she believed was her lover. Jones presented himself in her mind with a smile, with his lips mouthing out "how was your day, angel?" The woman was caught in the conversation and stood in the bathroom for a while. 

She took herself out of reality for a bit, eventually snapping out of it 30 minutes later. The woman finished her routine and headed to bed, where she spent more time dissociating until her body decided to fall asleep. By the time she woke up in the morning, the sun was already high in the sky. Another breeze swept by her room, placing a kiss on her cheek this time. 

It was 11 am.

The woman stays in her bed, stuck in another daze. Her mind raced with images and words, with her heart gathering emotion. The morning dread was typical and it kept her anchored on her mattress. Her hands lay limp and her feet refused its purpose. There she kept her attention on her mind, where she reveled in the thoughts of being held. 

Her dream gave her comfort in the motionless shell she called a body. 

But she was, again, brought back to reality with her stomach.

It was already 2 pm.

(Y/n) gathered up all the strength she could to push herself up. Her feet dangled above the floor. Her heels hit the box below. The letters. There they sat in their home, waiting to be opened by her. The woman stood up and trudged through the home, getting ready for another day of doing absolutely nothing. 

She stayed in her bathroom for a moment, her eyes blankly staring at the sink. Her mind wanders and continues to do so. 

Jones. Jones...Jones.

Whispering the soldier's name, she smiles but was brought back to a frown after a while. His image disappears in her mind, tucked away by her remaining sanity. (Y/n) moved her body to approach the box under her mattress. She followed her routine, ripping the envelope and studying the parchment inside. Another ramble formatted like a letter. Always addressed to his darling angel. But lacked the tear stains.

She didn't read further and didn't press for a deeper analysis. 

"Good morning Jones," (Y/n) whispered.

To my dearest angel, It's difficult to say these things to you. You know you mean so much to me, but sometimes I wonder if you feel the same way. I know you do, I'm praying you do, but sometimes at night, I think. I think about a lot of things that I want to pick out of my head. Those awful thoughts rot my brain. It's why I rarely don't think, but I do, sometimes. I'm doubting. I thought in the past that I no longer had doubts about everything and accepted fate as it is, but there's this itching idea in the back of my head. It's saying that you don't love me. You don't care about me. It's why you never send any letters back. But I know it's different. I know you're working hard back at home. Even if you aren't saying anything back to me, I know you're looking at the same moon and stars, regardless of where I am. It's because I remember. You remember how I told you I'd be your moon right? And that you'd be my stars. I still think it's us up there. I wish it was truly like that, so I don't have to worry about anything anymore. So that I could just have you up there and we'd be at peace together in the same sky.  In the same place. In the same home. You know, I feel awful, baby. I feel like everything I've built up in life, everything I've worked for is falling apart in front of me. I feel like a worthless sack of shit that keeps trying to rebuild and rebuild, but it's hard. I'm running out of bricks and my brain refuses to keep itself sane. I can't sleep at night anymore but I can barely keep myself awake in the morning.  I miss my ma, my pa, granddad, grandma. I miss everyone. I miss life back at home. Most importantly, I miss you. I miss everything about you. I miss kissing you, bringing you gifts, and holding you. It's too cold at night. Too quiet. Makes me get shaky and jittery. There's no one to hold, but, the thought of you just makes me really happy. Helps with the night shakes. Keeps me going, truly. I'd love to keep thinking about us, but the doubts really steer my brain the wrong way. I hope I'll find some way to claw them out of there. I'll find a way, eventually, but I promise you no harm will happen. I'll try and keep myself in peace so you'll still see me as the guy you fell in love with. I'll forever keep you in my prayers and in my thoughts. Dearly yours,  A.F.J

"I'll have you in my thoughts too," the woman softly spoke. "Forever."

She started at the paper before her. Although he seemed to be ill, he still has some hope inside him. He's a dedicated man...and (Y/n) will equally be as dedicated as him.

(Y/n) smiled before placing the usual, lingering kiss against the paper. Although there was no way to contact him, she could only hope that his spirit knows that someone loves him as much as he loved his girlfriend. Her lips departed and she tucked the letter back into its home.

"I'll see you tomorrow, baby," she whispered.

#hetalia x reader #hetalia #reader insert #hws x reader #aph america x reader #hws america x reader #x reader #fem reader #alfred f jones x reader