#hws america x reader

[atom-writings]

omgg i cant stop giggling n kicking my feet BUT can i request gn!reader 'accidentally' leaving a lipstick kiss mark on russia, america, canada, greece and japan before they leave for the day and the countries dont notice until either from a mirror or someone else points it out? AAOUGUGGH

hetalia russia, america, canada, greece, and japan when their s/os leave a kiss in lipstick

1.6k words ~ gender neutral headcanons

tw: none!

a/n: hjey guys did you know being a costume director is time consuming? i did not. send help. also enjoythis idk

Russia

It was never an easy affair to get Ivan out of the house. His clinginess combined with how admittedly boring his job was made it near impossible for him to leave without you forcing him to. Today was one of those days, and you were beginning to think you’d have to leave with him.

"But darling, can't you understand? It's so cold and miserable out there..." He whines as he holds you.

He's got you positioned so that you're standing between his legs while he sits on the couch, his arms wrapped tightly around you and his head resting against your chest. So... no escape available without coaxing.

"I know, I know, but you'll be late..."

"They will be ok without me, but I won't be ok without you!"

All you can do is sigh until you're suddenly struck with an idea. You can't go with him, but you can leave something with him. And looking down at his snow-white skin, you have just the idea.

"But you won't have to be without me, Vanya!" You chide, tilting his head up to look at you. His face lights up instantly.

"What do you mean?"

Instead of responding, you lean down and press a soft kiss against his forehead, leaving a pink imprint of your lips on his face.

"That one was magic, ok? It'll stay with you the whole day, so I'll always be with you!" It's childish, and you're struggling not to laugh, but his innocent expression tells you all you need to know. He'll finally let you go, none the wiser as to what you really meant.

-

"Ah- Mr. Braginsky..." Some random intern was forced to prompt later in the day, his tone fearful as to how Ivan would react.

"Yes?"

"You... you have something on- on your face..."

"Huh?" He reaches up to wipe where the intern had gestured, but only smiles when he comes away with your favourite lipstick. He decides that whatever left can stay... it's just your magic, after all.

America

Alfred was a busy man for all the effort he expended to prevent that exact reality. He'd much rather spend all day playing video games at home with you, but duty calls. Though, now, was just glad that for once, you were busy as well.

“Hey, babe!” He greets you with a bright smile, resting his hand on your shoulder before moving to sit across from you. The meeting spot he had chosen was busy, but at least it wasn't far from either places you two needed to be.

“Were you waiting long?”

“No, not really,“ You respond with a sigh, twirling the straw in your drink.

”Well, that's good because uh- bad news, I won't be able to stay l-“

”Ugh! Seriously?“

He shrinks a little, fidgeting with his hair, ”Yeah, I know, but like- I can't reall-“

”Do they know you're a person? Like, a person who needs to live?“

“Technically, I'm not, babe,” He laughs, “But I appreciate how protective you are anyway.“

He continued to talk with you for a while, about your day, his day, a weird guy he saw on the street, about how you can't keep threatening his boss because he's the president- until after only a few moments, his phone rang.

He sucked in a quick breath and accepted it, only speaking for a second. Then, he got up with a dramatic groan.

“That's my cue. I guess I'll see you later, K?”

But he wasn't about to get away that easy. You shot up, grabbing onto his tie and pulling closer so you could kiss his cheek quickly.

“For good luck,” You assure, and he grins.

-

“What are you guys laughing about?” Alfred asks as soon as he goes back to work, looking nervously at the group of co-workers pointing at him.

“Got something on your face, man!”

Instantly, he realizes what happened and hurriedly wipes it off. His face is red with embarrassment, but he can't deny the butterflies in his stomach.

Canada

No matter how long you've been together, Matthew never stopped trying to be the picture-perfect boyfriend. At least, that's what you thought as he chose to show up with roses when he came to pick you up. It might've been a fancy event, but you're sure no one else would be doing that kind of thing. But who were you this kind of attention?

“Uhm- good evening, Y/N,” He stutters out as you let him come in for a moment.

“Awww, you shouldn't have!“ You take the roses from him and set them aside.

”It- It's nothing, really-“

”Most men wouldn't even think of that anymore...“ You assure him. He looks sheepish now as if he hadn't expected you to like your gift.

”Then- then, um- they should learn how to t-treat their partners...“

How cute. You walk over to him and stand on your toes to kiss his cheek, to which he immediately stiffens and blushes.

“Thank you, Matthew.”

“Ye-Yeah, uh-huh- yeah- y-you're welcome,” He mumbles, looking down in embarrassment. The colour gracing his cheeks almost perfectly matches the mark your lipstick left behind. You begin to say something about it, but before you can, he frantically cuts you off.

“So- we should get g-going right? Right, time to go...” He blurts out, taking your hand and almost dragging you out to the car.

-

Finally, once you two arrived at the event, you gathered the courage to tell him.

While you two walked, arm in arm, up to the main entrance, you suddenly blurted out, ”You have lipstick on your cheek!“

Except by that time, more than a couple of people had seen him. causing him to instantly freeze up.

The colour drained from his face, and he weakly whimpered out, ”Um, c-could you- uh- g-get it?“

You immediately obliged, cleaning off his cheek. He was embarrassed, but it was still on his mind all night.

Greece

“But do you have to?”

“Yes.”

“But-”

“I’m not getting out of this one, ok?”

“But I don’t want you to go…” His protests were typical, but that didn’t make them any less annoying. Although, it’s hard to resist him when he’s clinging to you like a lost puppy and he smells like he just finished cooking.

“It’ll only be a few hours, ok?” You sigh, finally finishing your makeup.

All he can do now is whine softly, which makes you realize there may be only one way to stop his desperate clinginess. You turn around in his arms, take his pleading face in your hands, and press frenzied kisses all over it. Instantly, his eyes light up and his lips form a dopish smile, and you know you’re free.

“Is that better?” You ask, and he nods. But before you let go, you have to admire how silly he looks with your lips painted all over his face.

-

By the time you return home, it’s already dark. The house is quiet, and when you check the time, you realize he would’ve fallen asleep hours ago. But considering how exhausted you are already, it’s nothing but a relief.

When you enter your shared bedroom, your thoughts are confirmed. He’s already passed out, his broad body splayed haphazardly over your blankets. At first, you don’t think anything of it. But when you turn on the light to get ready for bed, you notice the red stains still sitting on his cheeks.

Somehow, throughout the entire rest of the day, he never looked in the mirror long enough to notice the lipstick covering his face. Or, maybe he did, and just decided that your tokens of affection could stay.

Japan

Kiku was never late. Not even when tired, sick, or at war, was he late to anything. So, the one day that he allowed himself to relax with you, was naturally the first day in centuries that he hadn’t been an hour early. 

“It’s gonna be alright!” You call out from the bathroom while you do your makeup, and he doesn’t even waste the time to respond. Even from all the way across the house, you can hear him desperately throwing things together.

“It is not alright!”

“You’ll still be on time!” That doesn’t seem to convince him to calm down at all, as you can hear his panicked breaths growing louder as he makes his way over to the entry door.

“Wait, wait, hold on,” You insist, and he pauses for a moment. When you meet him at the door, he looks a mess. His hair was askew, his eyes wild with panic, and his tie nearly all the way to the side.

You sigh and begin tidying him up. He relaxes under your touch, you can tell even from under his layers of stoicism; although he can’t allow himself to bask in your attention for long.

“I must go-”

“I know, I know, just…” You pull him forward, quickly pressing a kiss to his cheek. He blushes but doesn’t let that distract him. In a moment, he’s gone out the door.

-

After a frenzied drive into the city, he can finally breathe a sigh of relief. 10 minutes early… not great, but enough. He looks in the mirror one last time, making sure he looks his best before he finally steps out into the public when he notices it. The print of your lipstick, still on his cheek.

His touch lingers on it for a moment, his breathing stilling, before he rubs it off. You’ll just have to replace it later, he tells himself before he finally steps out of the car.

#not proofread at all #heta tag #hetalia imagines #hetalia x reader #ivan tag <3 #aph russia x reader #alfred tag #aph america x reader #hws america x reader #hws russia x reader #matthew tag #aph canada x reader #hws canada x reader #heracles tag #aph greece x reader #hws greece x reader #kiku tag #aph japan x reader #hws japan x reader

[bloodyselfshipping]

(Hetalia Main 8 x Reader) How they talk about you!

(Gender Neutral) Headcanons ~

Most people around Alfred would probably not realize you two are romantically involved. The way he talks about you is less like a partner and more like a best friend.

But that said, everyone would know who you are. It’s immediately obvious how close your relationship is. He seems to know everything about you.

He won’t bring you up constantly, but your presence is around him in some way.

“Who are you texting during the meeting?!” “Oh, Y/N! Right now they’re-”

“Who are you inviting?” “Y/N! I really think they’d have fun coming along-”

“Are you free tonight?” “Mm, sorry dude. I’m with Y/N tonight, just like last night, and the night before we-”

But if anyone asks, he loves talking about you. You make everything more fun, so even thinking about you makes him feel so much better!

He doesn’t bring you up much, but when he does it’s so obvious how much he loves you. Always looking in the distance longingly…

Doesn’t share a lot of personal details, probably doesn’t even mention your name. He always calls you nicknames or just “my lover.”

Arthur prefers to keep you his little secret.

“Ah, I have to go. I have an engagement with… someone special.”

So it's usually very stilted and formal, but not because of a lack of affection. He thinks that PDA and gushing about romance in public is tactless, so he refrains.

You’re like royalty to him so he always makes sure to make his respect more apparent than anything. No one is more special to him than you <3

The second most normal out of any of them. Although he always refers to you very romantically, that isn’t very out of line for how he normally is.

It seems as if he sees you as perfect, above others in every way. He always praises you and everything you do, to an absolutely absurd degree.

Always has very specific things he calls you in front of others.

“Ah, this reminds me of my S/O. They are like poetry in motion…”

“Every day I am inspired by Y/N, even the most impressive works of art are nothing compared to them.”

“My eternal love, they are calling to me… I must go!”  “Just say you wanna get outta here!”

He can’t help but gush about how perfect you are. He would say you are nothing less than soulmates.

Yao is a very traditional man. From the start of your relationship, he’s always referred to you as if you were married.

Sometimes he’ll refer to you like those old men who hate their wives, but only because he doesn’t realize the full implications.

“”Aiyaa! Have to go tend to the ball and chain, see you later!”

Except when he says that, he means it affectionately. By “tending to the old ball and chain” he means laying his head in your lap for two hours and telling you about how stupid his friends are.

He’d love nothing more than to just talk to you and you alone, he doesn’t care what anyone else thinks of you two.

Ivan CANNOT stop talking about you! Seriously, everyone is very annoyed by it. But he just can’t hold himself back, he needs everyone to know about how much he loves you.

Anytime anyone brings up something that reminds him of you, he has to go on a whole tangent. God forbid someone brings up an interest of yours, then it goes on forever.

They probably won’t even know your name because he just always uses some adorable pet name for you (:

When he misses you, it’s even worse. Anything just immediately results in,

“My darling used to call me that…” “Because it’s your name!”

If he could, he would bring you everywhere with him. So, he’ll do so in his own way (: (telling everyone who breathes in his direction about you)

Everyone is immediately aware of your existence. He LOVES bringing you up at every opportunity. All his friends need to know about his lovely S/O right now!!!

Definitely tries to show you off.

“You know whose really attractive? My S/O! Look, see!!!”

“I just thought of something funny, one time Y/N did that! But like, they were super hot!”

“Cuore mio, everyone should see how wonderful you are. Don’t be embarrassed!”

When he gets drunk, he can’t help but talk anyone’s ear off about you. About how much you mean to him, about how proud he is of you, a lot of other stuff that seems way too sentimental for an easy-going guy like him.

Often ends up bursting into rooms just to bring news of you. He gets so emotional it can become unbearable for those around him.

He can’t imagine his life without you, and everything is just a reminder of that fact. Feliciano loves you more than anything!

Ludwig wouldn’t not talk about you… but he wouldn’t go out of his way to do so. Not because he’s embarrassed of you, but because he’s embarrassed of how much he’s in love with you!

You make him so soft… and the thoughts of you are constantly distracting him! His darling (you) lives in his head rent-free, damn you!

“Oi Germany, is that a person on your lock-screen?” “N-No! Well… it’s my S/O… don’t make it into a situation!”

He thinks very highly of you, and trusts your judgment completely. Talking to you helps him think out his problems. That fact is so obvious that a lot of times, his friends will call you up for him when he’s panicking.

Not a fan of pet names, and can seem cold about your relationship in public. But don’t let that fool you, he doesn’t want to go a day without you!

Very casual about you. You’re his partner, you matter a lot to him, and he’s not embarrassed about it. 

But he does use his experiences with you to help him relate to others, so you get brought up quite a lot with his friends. When he’s having trouble socially, he tries to remember everything you’ve ever told him and repeat it.

“My S/O had something similar happen to them. May I consult them on this?”

“This reminds me of something that Y/N said to me last week. Shouldn’t we just put the past behind us? They said it’s no good to dwell on these things.”

“Hm… maybe we should just go home and rest before making a decision. Besides, I want to talk to Y/N about this.” “Are you sure you don’t just miss them?” “That is a possibility.”

He acts as if you two are married, but just because you have become so important to him so quickly. You make his life so much better and easier, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

#hetalia x reader #aph america x reader #aph england x reader #aph france x reader #aph china x reader #aph russia x reader #aph italy x reader #aph germany x reader #aph japan x reader #hws america x reader #hws england x reader #hws france x reader #hws china x reader #hws russia x reader #hws italy x reader #hws germany x reader #hws japan x reader #holy shit this is so many tags #auuuughhhhh #this is not proofread btw #whooppsiies #my work

[serenityinstone]

Feline Fiasco

Hetalia x Reader

This is written for a female reader but there isn't really anything specific that would suggest that besides a few references. If you want to read, I'm not going to stop you.

Also (Y/n) is completely uninterested in the countries for the majority of this, all she's interested in is the cats. This is way fluffier than anything else I've posted, which is two things, and this part is relatively America-centric because (Y/n) works for him. This is also way less quality work than those two posts but idk deal with it?

There is more to this but it's unfinished and I'll probably never post it. My friend also helped with the cat names so if you don't like them... uh assume that they chose them. One last note, I thought it would be funny to write the accents so you also have to deal with that.

As one of the many secretaries working in the White House, it was actually quite a surprise to you that you ended up as the main secretary to the human personification of the U.S.A.

Because of this, you had become quite close to Mr. F. Jones and more importantly: his cat.

You couldn't help but coo at the adorable and floofy feline. Sure, you should probably finish filing those papers, but national security can wait a few more minutes. Besides you couldn't resist the allure of the purr. It would be an understatement to say, when you learned that the other personifications also had furry friends of their own, you were excited.

America didn't want you interacting with the other countries, especially not Russia. But you honestly didn't care and you weren't the recording secretary for those meetings, so it's not like you were in attendance anyways. That somehow didn't stop you from having to tag along and meeting more nation cats; of which you weren't sure why they had brought them along in the first place. It's not like you were complaining.

Ball of fur after ball of fur. No cat went un-petted. Except for Germany's cat; he had evaded you time and time again. But no longer! For today was the last day and you were going to pet that cat if it was the last thing you did.

There it was. It's sleek black fur, the ribbon in Germany's signature colors around its neck, and that always alert look on its face. He would evade you no more. You crouched down in your very inflexible pencil skirt and prepared to pounce.

"Vhat are jou doing?" A voice thick with a German accent called out, startling you and the cat who decided to bound back towards him and into his arms.

"Uhhhh." You blanked.

"You're America's secretary right? Vat vere jou trying to do to my cat?" He questioned, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

You gulped and tried to explain your actions in a way that didn't sound absolutely ridiculous.

"I-uh. I wanted to pet your cat and… he kept evading me and I thought if I snuck up on him that I could pet him." You looked away and pitifully whispered, "Sorry."

"If jou vanted to pet him, all you had to do was ask."

"Really!?" Your eyes lit up and you looked up at the German with pure and unbridled excitement. He coughed and looked away with a slight blush resting on his cheeks.

"Of course." He held the cat out. You, with no hesitation whatsoever, immediately started to adore and love the cat, even shifting it from Germany's arms to your own.

As you continued to pet the cat, who despite his earlier refusal, seemed quite happy, you asked Germany a question. "My name's (Y/n). What's yours if you're willing to share? No pressure though."

His eyes widened a bit before he shook it off and gave you an answer. "Ludwig Beilschmidt." He responded, studying his cat. "Germouser seems to like jou."

You could barely stifle a laugh at the name he had given to the black cat. He sensed your amusement and gave an explanation.

"Feli- Italy named him. I vas going to name him Johann or something similar. Italy was zoroughly horrified by my suggestions and vould not rest until I vent vith his."

You smiled at the Italian's antics and shook your head with amusement. "Germouser is a fine name for an absolutely wonderful cat."

Germany seemed to get flustered again as he watched you coo at his cat, completely ignoring his presence. He would have just left him with you, but the meeting was starting soon and he didn't want to be late. Luckily for him, America decided to pop around the corner, demanding your attention. So you were forced to give up the precious kitty cat and return with Mr. Jones.

Alfred was annoyed. Not at you but at everyone else. Why did they have any right to be around you? You were an American citizen. His citizen. Sure, all you were really interested in was their cats. But what if you thought that they and their cats were so cool that you left him and went to live in a different country instead? He couldn't let that happen.

"So, (Y/n), dude, broette." He said on the way to the meeting room. "Here's the deal."

You gave him a look and raised an eyebrow.

"I need someone to watch Hero for me and my sitter flaked so you're gonna be watching him." He fingered-gunned at you and stars seemed to shine in the air around him. This, of course, was nothing new to you. It wasn’t like you would have rather been attending the meeting anyways.

So you stayed in a different unoccupied meeting room with a lovely, furry friend. It wasn't until he started hissing at a corner that you were in trouble.

"Hero, what's wrong?" You asked, concerned at the agitated cat. His tail bristled up and his ears flattened down as he took a defensive position. Out of nowhere another fluffy cat waltzed in from the very corner that Hero had been hissing at. It was Boris, a cat that belonged to Russia.

You hadn't actually gotten to pet him yet because to be honest, you were also scared of Russia. But… He wasn't around… and his cat was. And his cat was purring.

That was about all the reasoning that you needed to brush past Hero and scoop Boris up into your arms. The former started yowling for your attention and followed you as you went to sit down with the Russian cat.

You laid down on the plush carpeted floor and lifted the cat that you were holding up above you. Boris’ fluffy body was placed onto your chest and he immediately started purring louder once he got comfortable. He nuzzled his face into your neck, much to the annoyance of the American cat. Hero yowled at you and pawed at Boris, desperately trying to get him off.

Boris only gave him a smug look in return and kneaded into you, further solidifying his spot. Hero decided that it wasn’t worth the fight and that he was going to get his owner to remove the Russian cat and put him back into his mother’s lap: aka you.

The surprisingly smart and agile cat leapt around the room and pushed down the door handle, slipping out through the crack. You didn’t notice this as you were currently immersed in the bliss of a cat sitting on you and letting you pet it.

Eventually the purring lulled you into a peaceful and warm slumber, the two of you deciding to take a cat nap.

It would be Russia who found you first. Ivan realized that his cat had gone missing and he honestly didn’t care enough about the meeting to stay. It's not like anyone would try to stop him.

So as Hero bounded down the halls towards the meeting room, Mr. Ivan Braginsky came from the other direction; his sense of where his cat was at any one moment was completely uncanny.

The Russian gradually opened the wooden door and it quietly opened without any resistance. He turned his head towards where he heard purring and was met with a surprising sight. It was America’s secretary, with his cat, lying, with his cat.

You were breathing softly and the movements of your chest moving up and down also moved Boris. Ivan couldn’t help but faintly smile at the sight. Said cat opened a singular eye to acknowledge the new presence in the room. He flicked his tail and settled back into his spot. Not wanting to bother you or the cat, Ivan pulled out a chair and sat down. 

He pulled out some paperwork, seemingly from nowhere, and began to work on it. The sounds of your quiet breathing, combined with the light purr from Boris, made for a calming work environment. 

As the three of you remained in peaceful bliss, another kitty cat was running around the corner on the never ending search for food. Itabby trotted up and down the corridors looking for an open door that might lead to some food that didn’t come from England. Her golden fur glimmered as the sun shined through the many windows in the building. She looked over at a door that had opened slightly and was too blinded by the thought of food to notice the scarily familiar scent coming from the room.

Itabby scampered over to the door but screeched and meowed as she was sent flying by an American blonde and his equally irritated cat. She tentatively peered around the door at the scene forming.

“HEY!” Alfred yelled, startling both you and the cat. You shot up straight, Boris falling into your lap. “What are you doing with her?!” He yelled again, getting his face up into Ivan’s. The other man gave him an unamused look and stood up, towering over him. Alfred, despite this, did not back down and continued to stare angrily at him.

“Go away.” The white-haired male said, his accent heavy as he crossed his arms. “You have startled them with your unnecessary noise. You are just like the rest of your country.”

The air tensed and became heavier as the seconds went on. They began to size each other up as Hero, ironically, “heroically” walked proudly over to you and with his front paws, pushed Boris off of your lap. He quickly took his place and started purring. Boris’ fur began to puff up as he hunched down and prepared to pounce. His back legs flexed and he made the jump, sending both him and Hero flying towards their fighting owners, who were remarkably somehow not in a physical fight. Yet.

You very quickly realized that you did not want to be in the middle of  two superpowers fighting and quietly took your leave. (E/c) eyes met feline amber ones and you swept up the cat and made your escape, leaving behind the feuding men and cats.

Itabby snuggled into your arms as you finally slowed down to catch your breath. Her round tail whooshed back and forth as you tiredly walked through the long hallway. The two of you eventually ended up in the rose gardens of the meeting building. The area was well taken care of and beautiful if you did say so yourself. The meeting was taking place in England and Mr. Jones had told you about how the Brit enjoyed gardening, so it made sense as to why it was here.

Speaking of the British, you spotted a fluffy feline shape from the corner of your eye. It was deeper into the gardens and among the trees. Itabby finally decided that it was time to go and return to her owner. She gracefully leaped out of your arms and landed on all fours and trotted off to beg Italy for some pasta. You instead continued your approach to the cat, which at this point, you could tell was a Scottish Fold.

The left side of his face was brown and so was his tail. Alike to his owner, he seemed to have what you assumed were some kind of eyebrows and when he opened his eyes to look at you, his olive eyes stared into yours. He flicked his tail and layed back down onto the wall that he was laying on. His collar jingled as he moved and you quietly moved up to him. On the gold circle attached to the same olive color collar, was a name.

‘Scone’ You thought. ‘Oh my god. This is the most English cat name I have ever seen.’

You almost started laughing but the smoldering glare the cat gave you made you think otherwise. The stone wall was surprisingly cold for the summer sun and as you sat down, you took a look at Scone. He seemed to still be quite grumpy, but he knew you from earlier in the week, so he was not alarmed. You lifted up and moved your left arm forward to start petting him.

Scone was soft and clearly well-taken care of. His fur was clean and had no knots or dirt insight, despite laying around a garden for half a day. You continued your actions and the both of you started to fall back into slumber. Your hand hovered on the back of the feline and your head slumped alongside your body.

It was peaceful. With birds chirping and the wind lightly blowing. There was a river babbling somewhere in the background and it made for a serene scene. The only reason he had let you pet him was because you had fed him earlier in the week. He didn’t have his collar at that point so this was the first time you had gotten his name. Your eyes closed as you recalled the event from a couple of days prior.

The day after the plane landed you were on the hunt for felines. Armed with some cat food, a retractable mouse-on-a-stick and hope, you made your way around the building England had set aside for housing the rampant countries, and byproduct, their cats. France’s cat, Monsieur, was an absolute attention wh-. He really liked attention, and would rub himself against your leg anytime the two of you crossed paths. It’s not like France, or Francis, was much better.

It’s not like you minded petting him. He was adorable after all. The cat, not Francis. But you had wanted to meet as many other cats as you could and so you had to stop by Francis’ room multiple times to drop off Monsieur.

“Je suis désolé.” He said, taking Monsieur out of your arms. “He keeps getting out. But I guess he knows when there’s a lovely lady around.”

You ignored his attempts at flirting and instead scratched Monsieur’s chin one last time before leaving. He purred at you and while you felt bad about leaving him, you were on a mission! Besides, you had a certain Japanese cat to track down. Monsieur meowed at you as you walked down the hallway and if you didn’t know better you’d say so did Francis.

Either way, nothing was going to stop you from petting Tama, Japan’s cat. He was an adorable little black and white feline with the cutest little bob for a tail. You had actually spotted him earlier and was about to go up to him before Monsieur literally jumped into your arms, demanding attention. Of course you weren’t going to say no so Tama quickly left your sight as you went to return Monsieur. 

Wait, isn't Monsieur just sir in French? Oh well there was no time to think about questionable cat names, this building was full of them.

Monsieur wasn’t the only attention whore of a cat. Prussia’s cat, Purrussia, wasn’t much better. He would follow you down hallways and meow with his scratchy meow at you while Austria’s cat, Allegro, whined behind him. He literally tried to jump up at you a few times.

Of course both of them were interrupted when Hero ran straight at you and tackled you like a professional linebacker. You had thought that it was mostly fluff, but no, apparently Hero could pack a punch. He knocked the wind out of you as you fell backwards onto the tiled floor. The cat sat proudly on you and looked around like he was waiting for something or someone. Whoever he was waiting for, however, wouldn’t show up fast enough to see Purrussia return the favor and tackle Hero off of you, much to Allegro’s horror. 

The white cat had a German ribbon as well but it looked like it was fraying at the edges. The reason you were bringing this up was because Hero was currently using one of the edges to try to choke Purrussia and Allegro was using the other to try to pull Purrussia away from Hero. Neither was really working and all it was really doing was making Purrussia more and more agitated.

“PURRUSSIA!!!” A shrill voice yelled out from down the hallway.

The cats stopped their roughhousing to see two of the countries barrelling down towards them. Well Prussia was. Austria was slowly walking over, looking more inconvenienced than anything else.

“Purrussia! Purrussia!” Prussia reiterated, pulling his cat up by its arms. “Did jou vin?!”

Everyone but the two Prussians stared in disbelief at his statement. The albino feline furiously nodded his head and if he could have talked you would have imagined that he would have been saying, ‘I’m awesome!’

Hero angrily meowed down below, as if to oppose Purrussia’s non-verbal statement. Allegro just haughtily licked his paw and stuck his nose up as if to pretend that he was disgusted with their fighting as if he hadn’t just been a part of it. Austria picked up his in-denial cat and you picked up Hero who calmed down as soon as you did. 

“Sorry about him.” You said, brushing his unruly fur down with your hand. “He gets a little competitive.”

“Ja. It’s fine.” Austria said, petting his own cat. “Purrussia is not much better.”

“HEY!” Prussia yelled. “My awesome Purrussia is doing his best! And besides, at least he actually does something!”

“Jour cat picked a fight vith a vall (wall) Gilbert.” Austria sassed.

“Vell jour cat’s piano playing is trash!”

Austria gave a gasp of horror before inching closer to the Prussian.

“Jou take zat back, RIGHT NOW!”

Prussia just laughed, still letting Purrussia’s back paws dangle as he held him like one would a toddler. He got in close to the Austrian’s face, smiling deviously at him.

“Nein.”

He suddenly, while still holding Purrussia, took off, running away from Austria. He wasn’t far behind though and you could hear the man yelling in German all the way down the far corridor.

“Well Hero.” You said, looking down at the cat who had made himself very comfortable. “That was weird.”

He just snuggled closer to you and you sighed. You scratched him once more before heading down the opposite hallway. The destination was clear, before you could continue your cat quest, you’d have to get this one safely back to its owner.

You suddenly snapped back to reality, still sitting on the wall. The sun was now high in the sky and the spot underneath you was no longer cold. You were especially warm as you now had a Scottish Fold sitting comfortably upon your lap. Quietly cooing at the cat, you looked to see if there was any way to escape your furry prison. The most important rule of cats: once a cat sits on you, you’re not moving until they do.

You sighed, legs uncomfortably stiff. Scone was far more content and his bushy tail occasionally brushed against your leg. It was incredibly cute but it didn’t make your back stop hurting from being hunched over for the last half hour.

Voices came from farther within the garden. There were two people currently engaged in a soft conversation. You caught bits and pieces of it; there was a man with a British accent and a man with what you thought was American until you heard him say ‘aboot.’ You couldn’t help but snicker at your own observation, disturbing Scone in the process.

He scornfully meowed at you and you offered pets in an apology. Around the corner turned Scone’s owner and a man who looked incredibly similar to America. They both turned to look at you when the Scottish Fold you were fondling stretched out to impossible lengths and complained like a cat while he did it. England looked down at your lap to see his cat very happily cushioned on your thighs. The man next to him was also holding a cat who again looked very similar to America’s.

They were clearly different though. This man’s hair was more auburn and his eyes were a shade of impossible purple. There was also more of a wave to it whereas America’s hair was as straight as hair comes. Familiarity lit up in your eyes, not for the man however.

“Maple!” You exclaimed, wanting to go to the cat but also not willing to disturb the one on you. “How have you been?”

The men stared at you, wondering if you were talking to them or the cat. Of course Maple himself answered this as he jumped out of his owner’s arms and darted over to you. He gracefully climbed up the small wall and placed himself down by you. Scone was on your lap and he was nicer than Hero so as to not push him off. You moved one of your arms to pet Maple and kept the other on Scone. They were so cute you felt like you were going to explode.

“Oh.” A quiet voice spoke out. It came from the man behind England. “You’re Alfred’s secretary right?”

You smiled and nodded at the man. “And I assume that means you’re Canada, right?”

He looked a tad taken aback before nodding himself. “Yeah…” He trailed off and England instead picked up the conversation.

“I thought you were supposed to be watching his furrball cat, Hero.” He walked over and leaned against the wall.

“I was. But then he and Boris got into a catfight… and then America and Russia got into a catfight.”

Canada laughed in the background but quickly covered it up. England stared at Scone, looking to see if there was anyway to get him off of you without being scratched himself. He had enough injuries, that should have scarred had he not been a country, from the cat. He shivered a bit, though also began to pet the feline, scratching his under the chin.

“That sounds like those two.”

You hummed in agreement, continuing your affections. Canada also came over to pet his own cat who ironically did smell like maple syrup. 

“Can I make you the villain of this story?” You asked England, gesturing to Scone. “I do actually have somewhere I need to be.”

“Oh I suppose I can assume that role.” He mused, carefully picking up his cat. He was not happy to be moved but England just shushed him.

Canada also picked up his cat who was slightly nicer about the whole thing. He fidgeted with Maple’s ear as he held him.

“I’m Matthew.” He said, carefully shifting Maple so he could put one arm out to shake your hand.

You finished the formal greeting. “I’m (Y/n).”

The other blonde butted in from the background. “I’m Arthur, love.”

“It’s very nice to formally meet both of you. Seeing you from across a meeting room doesn’t really count.” You smiled and gave a small pat to each of the feline’s heads. “Well I wasn’t kidding about needing to get somewhere. I really didn’t mean to get stopped as long as I did.” 

You playfully glared at the Scottish Fold sitting comfortably in his owner's arms. He promptly ignored you, instead turning around cutely. England apologized but you told him it was fine. You were at least 50% sure that Mr. Jones was probably still fighting with Russia. Those two really were like angry cats. You waved the two men off and went on your way to find out the answer to that question.

Instead of coming across two feuding superpowers, you came across two of the Asian nations’ cats. You had already met them both but this was the first time you were seeing them together. Tama was sitting up high on a shelf while China’s cat, Meowzedong, was angrily meowing at him from down below. Everytime he tried to climb up, Tama would use a paw and swipe a book or other object down at him.

You flinched as a very breakable, very expensive-looking, vase crashed down. It was this movement that alerted the two cats to your presence and Meowzedong wasted no time at all to come over to you and complain. Now you couldn’t exactly speak cat but you got the jist.

Bending down, you carefully picked up the cat. Meowzedong always had a weird clump of fur that looked almost like a ponytail that, no matter how much China cut it, always grew back. He yowled at you and pointed a furry paw in Tama’s direction. The other cat had already loafed on top of the high shelf and you looked at him, back at Meowzedong, back at Tama, and then back at Meowzedong again.

“I don’t know how tall you think I am but I’m not that tall.”

Meowzedong just narrowed his eyes and meowed at you again. You sighed, looking back at Tama. If he had a long enough tail to flick it at you he would’ve. Sensing the futility of his quest, Meowzedong instead spread himself out in your arms and if you didn’t know better you would have said that he was mocking Tama. And if you really didn’t know better you’d say that it was working and that the bobtail was getting more irritated by the second. The personifications might have had to act cordial but their cats had no such qualms.

Finally, Tama de-loafed himself and gracefully hopped down a few other layers before reaching the bottom. He gracefully walked over to you and sat on your foot… Well shoot. What were you supposed to do now?

So here you were, from one cat prison to the next. Standing in the middle of some random, out-of-the-way hallway because the nations’ cats were all attention-hogging, though very adorable, brats.

You didn’t know how much time had actually passed. There was no clock in the hallway, you didn’t wear a watch, and both of your hands were occupied so you couldn’t check your phone. As cute as they were, your legs felt like they were about to collapse in on themselves. You couldn’t even shift how you were standing because Tama had taken it upon himself to lay across both of your shoes. Your arms also felt like they were going to fall off at any second. Meowzedong wasn’t a particularly heavy cat but try holding anything over five pounds for longer than five minutes.

You were desperately hoping that either they would finally get bored and leave or someone would come to save you. Wow you guessed you really did need a “Hero” right about now… Dammit you thought that referencing needing a hero in your head would magically summon America or his equally hotheaded cat.

“Tama. Meowzedong.” You murmured. “Can you please get off?” You hoped to whatever god or gods were out there that they didn’t hear the desperation in your voice. Never show weakness to a cat.

The two cats made eye contact with each other for a moment and seemed to come to an agreement. Meowzedong stretched his body out before jumping onto the ground. Tama did the same but instead greeted Meowzedong when he landed.

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration if you said that you collapsed onto the wooden floor below. You quickly got up however as you didn’t want them to see it as another chance to sit on you. At least not right now. You pulled out your phone to see all of the messages and calls you missed. You had put it on silent while watching Hero and forgot to turn it back to vibrate.

‘Oh my god Mr. Jones called me twenty-three times.’ You thought, frantic. ‘I’m gonna be in so much trouble!’

You raced down the hallway, startling a group of micronations as you went. There was no time to apologize! You had to keep your job! If not for you then for the cats!

Not even thinking to knock you burst open the door where America was staying, side note why wasn’t it locked? And were greeted with the sight of!... Mr. Jones… crying? His cat looked pretty dejected too and was currently hanging himself off the side of the bed like a rug.

“Sir?” His head shot up to look at you.

He quickly snapped his head back away, mushing at his face in an attempt to try to make it seem like he wasn’t crying.

“(Y-Y/n)” He stuttered for a second, before immediately going back to the hero persona. “Where’ve you been!?”

“Are you okay?” You ignore him, instead asking your own question.

You titiled your body to look at what he was looking at… Was that a framed picture of you?!

It didn’t matter because he was very quickly all in your face again. You could see what seemed to be a rapidly healing black eye and a tooth that hadn’t fully regrown in yet as he smiled at you. Just how long was he fighting with Russia for?

You sat him down on his bed, considering if you should even bother getting a medkit for him. Either way you ended up spending the rest of the day with him, watching movies and sitting what you considered a good ways away from each other on the plush couch. He apparently had a nicer room in all of England’s properties from when he used to live there during parts of the year.

Hero filled the gap in-between you of which America was mildly annoyed about. He kept trying to get you to use ‘Alfred’ but you insisted that it was unprofessional. He’d close the gap one day.

#hetalia x reader #hetalia #hws france x reader #hws america x reader #hws england x reader #hws canada x reader #hws russia x reader #hws china x reader #hws italy x reader #hws germany x reader #hws japan x reader #hws austria x reader #america x reader #canada x reader #england x reader #france x reader #russia x reader #china x reader #italy x reader #germany x reader #japan x reader #austria x reader #hws prussia x reader #prussia x reader #nekotalia

[hetalimagines]

General headcanons for Alfred as a boyfriend (SFW)

Here's my first actual post on this blog, hehe... I can't find the ask but someone requested some Alfred headcanons, so here are my rambles about what I think he's like as a boyfriend!

He’s honestly not the most traditionally romantic person. Your relationship is more like friends who make out sometimes. But he does have his own little ways of showing you he loves you!

He’ll put together playlists of songs that remind him of you. They’re mostly loose connections, like maybe a song mentions your eye color, or the lyrics remind him of a date you went on together, or it just sounds romantic and makes him wanna kiss you. He likes to sit with you while you listen (to every single song), and he interrupts the songs a bit to explain why he chose them.

“This one had me thinking what if we were dancing in a ballroom together, and out of nowhere, bam! Zombies bust in. The door crashes to the ground! Our dance turns into one of those cool fighting scenes with the—oh, this part reminded me of the time I woke up early and you were about to fall off the bed. You had a cute bedhead.”

(You have no idea what the lyrics are at this point.)

Dates with him are pretty casual, more like “hanging out” than anything fancy. Maybe you stay at home and watch movies/play games, or you go out for dinner at a local diner, or you go do awful karaoke together, or you go and prank a friend together.

He’s happy as long as he’s with you. Bonus if there’s food and/or drink.

He occasionally takes you out to a more traditional restaurant and dresses for the occasion. They’re usually expensive, too. The food isn’t his preference (too complicated for his palate), but if it makes you happy, he’s all for dealing with it for just one night.

His primary love languages are acts of service and quality time. He’s always doing what he can to help you out (and feel proud of himself in the process). Whether he helps you run errands, runs a bath for you ahead of time, or fluffs your pillow before you get in bed, it’s all because he wants to make your life easier!

He gets a little jealous if you ever spend time with your shared friends without him, or if you spend more time with others than him.

He’s so excited if you take interest in any of his hobbies. Movies? He’ll ask if you want to co-write a script with him. (He’s very relaxed about what exactly ends up in the script.) Archaeology? He has so many random facts to dump on you, and he’ll be super impressed by any knowledge you have on it. Conspiracy theories? Time to watch a bunch of documentaries! He enjoys them despite their flaws, but lets you know exactly when something is false and what actually happened.

He tries to take interest in your hobbies, too, even if he doesn’t understand what you’re talking about. It could be the most boring thing and he’d still listen and ask you questions about it. If it makes you happy, he wants to know all about it.

Pet names from him consist of things like babe, dude (💀), honey, occasionally sweetie, (jokingly… mostly) prince or princess. It’s all over the place. He’ll call you honey and dude back-to-back sometimes.

He loves debating if you’re comfortable with it! But be warned, he gets very heated about certain topics. His sense of justice is important to him. Otherwise, he’s usually not serious about these debates and doesn’t care who wins.

He tries to keep things light and doesn’t usually let people see his more serious side. He’ll open up to you more over time, however. It’s really him letting a wall down and allowing himself to get closer to you.

Every now and then, he has days where he’s a lot quieter and calmer than usual. He just wants to relax, stay on the couch with you and watch movies or simply chat. Maybe a movie chattering in the background as he tells you about his childhood. He doesn’t try so hard to keep up this energetic, heroic persona.

He’s right back to normal the next day like nothing happened.

Likes to annoy you for fun. Not in a mean-spirited way. He just thinks your responses are cute and has poor impulse control. Poking your cheeks or ruffling your hair or playing an obnoxious song loudly on the stereo while he dances. But he’ll back off if you’re genuinely upset with him. He means no harm.

He loves if you’re willing to play along with whatever he gets up to. Maybe he’s decided he’s going to try and vacuum the whole house while doing a handstand on the vacuum. You can hold onto his legs to help him stay balanced.

This man is very impulsive and has a tendency to get himself hurt. Random bruises all over his body or a cut along his forearm. He bounces back easily, and doesn’t want to fuss over it, but he lowkey likes if you baby him about it. He’ll always say how it’s not a big deal and he can take it, but his heart does this little flutter when you show concern, and even more if you force him to take better care of himself.

He burns himself in the kitchen and you force him to run it under cold water. He’s swooning inside.

He likes to gossip about others, especially over breakfast. He can’t help it; he’s just nosy, and he always has an idea of what’s going on and how he can help out. Huge bonus if you gossip with him!

He loves to feed you, but the majority of the food he brings for you is burgers or tubs of ice cream. He likes to experiment with the burgers’ toppings and seasonings, but they’re all burgers nonetheless.

Every now and then, he does plan some big romantic endeavor. It’s like a surprise. You never know when it’s coming… You wake up one morning and find out he’s booked a week long cruise, your bedroom is filled with balloons, and there’s enough breakfast food on the table to feed an army.

He does this thing sometimes (often) where he swoops in and has to save you. A puddle on the ground? No need to fear! He picks you up and swiftly carries you over it. The safest place for you is in his arms. He’ll even lay down and let you use him as a bridge if you want.

A suspicious penny on the sidewalk? LOOK OUT, IT MIGHT BE A BOMB! Let HIM step on it before you get blown up!

He steps on it. Nothing happens. Better safe than sorry!

If you’re the more independent type, that won’t stop him from trying. He just wants to keep you safe and have you appreciate his efforts. Being disinterested or resistant will just make him try harder.

Says cheesy stuff like “happy wife, happy life” unironically. He’s also the type to use terrible pickup lines to flirt with you. Totally unaware of how bad they are until you start laughing.

He also doesn’t care that they’re bad. He’s just having fun.

Loves to give you his clothes to wear. Seriously. You want one of his hoodies? Try six of them.

You complain when one stops smelling like him so he puts it on, works out, then gives it back to you like :D! Fixed the problem!

He takes so many pictures of you guys. Videos, too. His phone storage is eaten up by it. His favorite thing is to take selfies together. Usually with some silly filter. Or an even sillier caption.

“me and the babe out shopping” and it’s a picture of you, holding a piece of fruit with the dog ears filter

He’s not the most physically affectionate, but he always gives you morning kisses and especially kisses before leaving the house. He also loves carrying you around (mostly bridal style) in his arms for no reason other than he can. A hand on your back, another on your thighs, your head pressed against his chest. He loves it.

He loves knowing you find him physically attractive! He worries sometimes about being too overweight, so any reassurance that you like his body helps. If you think he’s hot, and you’re hot yourself, that must mean he definitely is.

Has a tendency to call you hot, but he’ll call you other things if it makes you uncomfortable.

Occasionally brags about you and how lucky he is. Not as often as you might think. Though he gets oddly competitive if anyone acts like their partner is better than you and starts spouting whatever he can so everyone knows you’re the absolute best. No competition.

#alfred isn't one of my fave characters so i hope i did him justice ♡ #hetalia #hetaila headcanons #hetalia imagines #hetalia x reader #aph america #hws america #aph america x reader #hws america x reader #america x reader #reader insert #sugar

[opticfile]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲

—✦ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 // in which alfred is a truck driver and you're his favorite stop

✧ i loooooove writing for alfred i love love love it hes my favorite to write for probably

—✦ 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 // Alfred F Jones (APH America)

—✦ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 // swearing, reader is hit on by unwanted college boy, fluff, gn!reader

A few things help Alfred get through his days and nights. One is some music, another is phone calls with his buddies. Whatever it is, he just needs something to fill the dull air as he drives endlessly from one place to another. Singing along to a Gwen Stefani song (probably one from her No Doubt era) or dancing in his seat at red lights always helps keep his mood high. Waving to little kids in their mom’s backseats when they look up at him in awe and wonder is always nice, too, it makes him feel like more than just a truck driver, it’s like he’s Superman and flying over the city after saving the day.

But truth be told though, he’d have a hard time staying awake behind the wheel on especially hard days without his coffee. This man doesn’t exactly have the healthiest diet, especially not while driving, his passenger's seat is always full of fast-food bags and his cup holder always has soda or an energy drink lingering in it. Coffee, however, helps him start his day off right. It’s a tasty, warm energizer early in the morning when his eyes are still adjusting and his brain still isnt awake.

Yet the only thing that can get his day off to a good start better than coffee is you.

You’re a sweet college student, probably close to graduating, maybe a four-year degree, he thinks. You work at a cafe he frequents as often as he can, as long as he’s in the area it's his number one choice for his morning coffee and bagels. Half of it is because he really likes the coffee, the rest is because he likes seeing you.

You’re way too kind for someone working the early morning opening shift. You always smile at him and banter with him, no matter how clearly exhausted you are. And he’s way too cheery for a guy who wakes up at the ass-crack of dawn to drive a big ass truck around all day, so you guys have that one in common. You have a lot in common. Maybe you guys have matching eyebags, he thinks, or your voices are equally as groggy. 

But you always smile when he comes in, he's a regular at this point, the kind of regular who doesn't even need to order because the barista knows what he's getting. You always draw a little heart next to his name on his cup, sometimes lately you’ve been writing Alfie instead of Alfred, too. That one will never cease to make his heart stutter. You know exactly how much cream cheese he likes on his bagels, you know exactly how much cream to put in his coffee, and yeah maybe that's just because you’ve made the same order for him a gazillion times but he likes to think of it as something more intimate than it is. 

One time you complimented his hoodie, it had a little alien head embroidered over his heart, and “I come in peace!” was written over his back. You noticed it, you mentioned it, you complimented it, and he broke out into a grin.

“Really? I think it's great, too.” He said triumphantly. “My brother said it was corny, but you should see some of the shit he wears.”

“Corny? Maybe. Cute? Definitely.” You giggled, writing his name on a large cup. 

“You’re supposed to be on my side, you know.” He winked playfully, leaning on the counter and watching you as you made his drink. He’s seen you do it a thousand times, he never gets over how efficient you are.

“I said it was cute!” You said, defensively, a coy glint in your eyes. “But I can’t exactly lie to you, either.”

He laughed joyfully.

The first time Alfred saw you he thought you were cute, the second time he thought your haircut was cool. Now when he sees you it's like a puppy seeing his owner after they’ve been at work all day. He gets happy, his stomach does backflips like an Olympic gymnast, and he can’t stop smiling.

Most of the time it's just you, him, and one or two of your coworkers. Not many customers pop in so early—shocker, right?—so he gets to enjoy chatting with you until his coffee is ready before he has to set off on the road. 

Sometimes there’s another person in the cafe though, sometimes two. One time that other person was clearly a college guy, one who had no business being here this early, one that should be hungover and passed out on his frat house’s deck instead of leaning over the counter and trying to flirt with you.

That was probably the first time Alfred realized you weren’t just his barista friend, but his barista crush. What tipped him off? The fact he wanted to grab the guy by his collar and carry him out of the building like a mama cat carrying its kitten by the scruff of its neck.

He didn’t, by the way, he wouldn’t do that unless you asked him to.

Instead, he just grit his teeth as he waited in line behind the guy, listening as he dragged out the ordering process to drop some lame pickup line that made his skin crawl—and yours too, judging by the awkward smile on your face and the forced laugh you humored him with. Alfred definitely wanted to groan out loud at that point. When the guy finally got the hint and left, Al walked up to the counter with a smile, and your shoulders relaxed and you sighed. 

“Long time, no see, partner.” You smiled tiredly up at him. 

It had been a long time, maybe a week or two, and he realized he missed you all that time, too. 

“Yeah, it’s great to be back in town.” He tipped his ballcap like he was tipping a cowboy hat, a dumb grin on his face. He didn’t have to place his order, you knew already.

You giggled softly at that. Was it just him or were you more exhausted than usual? Maybe the weirdo hitting on you drained your social battery or something, maybe it was finals week or something. 

“Great to have you back, I missed my favorite regular.” 

“Aw, you tellin’ me you have other regulars?” He clutched his pears in faux shock, acting hurt for dramatic effect. Somewhere to your left, your coworker snorted.

“Maybe, but none of them are as cool as you.” You grinned. “And none of them have such easy orders, either.”

“I’m a simple man, what can I say.” 

When you handed him his coffee and bagel, your fingers brushed his, and he felt a tingle go down his arm for a split second. Then you winked, and he felt one in his heart.

To say you felt any different than him would be a lie.

Alfred was definitely your favorite regular, that was no joke when you said it to him no matter how playful your tone was. He was always sweet and respectful and always cheered you up when you were barely dragging yourself through your shift.

The first time he came in you thought he was hot, the second time he came in you thought he was funny, and now when he comes in you feel a breath of fresh air cut through the coffee-scented air and your heart speeds up momentarily at his smile.

His smile always got to you. It was so attractive, he had such nice straight teeth and his lips framed them perfectly. It felt like a beautiful oil painting framed in gold or something. What came out of those lips was no different, his voice was always pleasing to the ears, and sometimes he came in sounding like he just rolled out of bed, and that was also pleasing. 

Alfred’s presence was the best part of your week, everything else sucked if you were being honest. Your coworkers made it really hard to feel positive when they were so bitter because they had to do the job they applied for. Your patience was thinning every day, and honestly when that guy from one of your classes showed up you felt like quitting then and there. Thankfully he never came back, if he did you probably would’ve thrown down your apron as soon as he entered. 

As much as you hate to say it, Alfred alone wasn't enough for you to want to keep the job. So you turned in your two weeks, you found a new job—one much more impressive than “barista”—and you counted the days until you were free from your coffee-stained shackles.

The last week of your job you didn’t see Alfred once, and you were starting to get anxious that you wouldn’t see him again. Maybe you could get one of your lazy coworkers to give him your number, or you could show up every morning until he was there. 

(that was in no way plausible, you barely even wanted to show up now and you work there)

But, to your relief, on your last day, Alfred popped through the window. His blue eyes shone through his glasses, his blonde hair was a mess, and he was wearing a hoodie with his iconic bomber jacket over it. He looked warm, he looked good. He grinned widely at you, shooting you finger-guns as he approached the counter.

“If it isn’t my favorite barista!” 

“And my favorite customer returns! I was getting worried, you know.” You smiled back, grabbing a cup for his drink.

“Aw, I always come back to this place! If you didn’t see me today, you’d see me tomorrow or next week or something.” He promised.

“I actually wouldn’t.” You said, “Because I wouldn’t be here.”

Alfred paused, “What’d’ya mean?”

“It’s my last day.” You smiled, glancing back up to him momentarily and catching the way his lips tugged down slightly.

“Like… forever?” He asked.

“Yup, I got myself a shiny new job.” You boasted.

“So I won’t get my morning coffee from you anymore?” He leaned on the counter, his voice seemed disappointed.

“Uh,” You pulled your eyes away from the coffee machine to meet his, “Yeah. Not anymore.”

He nodded slowly, “I won’t get to see you again, then?”

You chuckled to yourself, “Of course you will, silly.”

“I will?”

“Yeah, did you think I would part ways with you without giving you my number or something?” You grinned.

Slowly, he did too. His eyes twinkled and his chest shook in laughter. “I’d sure hope not.”

You smiled, face warming a little as he stared at you intently. This time, when you handed him his coffee and bagel your number was written beneath his name. 

“So, your number-?”

“It’s on the cup.” You noted.

“Got it. Yeah. I’ll- I’ll call you.” He grinned, walking backward for a moment before ripping his eyes away from your face and walking out the door feeling like a giddy teenage girl.

Today his day got off to an amazing start. Coffee always helped with that, but you? You always made it ten times better.

✧ navigation.

#opticfile ✧༺࿐ #hetalia #hetalia world series #aph hetalia #hetalia axis powers #aph america #hetalia world stars #hetalia world twinkle #hws #hws america #aph america x reader #hws america x reader #alfred f jones #america x reader #alfred f jones x reader #alfred jones x reader #hetalia america

[brianlesshetaliawritings]

HI I LOVE YOU the Allies with a crush hcs you wrote are so cute I adore how you characterize everyone 😭 would you please do the SFW alphabet (from your pinned post) with America? Thank you so much :D

America SFW Alphabet

note: OMG THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!1!!! I LOVE YOU TOO SWEET ANON THANK YOUS O MUCH (i'm sorry this took me so long)

Affection: How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?

He's very openly affectionate with you, completely shameless when he kisses you in public. He compliments anything good he notices about you and always says he loves you, but he also likes hanging out with you at his favorite places.

 Best friend: What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?

Tbh Alfred just saw you and decided to have a conversation with you, this could be anywhere while anything is happening. He's a very playful friend, he really likes playing sports or video games with you.

 Cuddles: Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?

Most definitely he would. He likes if your head lays on his chest while he hold you with one arm, it makes him feel like he can protect you. Also he just seems like the type to rest on his back to me.

 Domestic: Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?

He can make scrambled eggs or toast, but thats the farthest his chef skills stretch. Cleaning isn't for him either since he always ends up breaking something on accident. He wants to wait until he can do those things to settle down, if he does. He's fine either way.

Ending: If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?

He'd wait for a good time then tell you he doesn't think this is working out, he probably didn't think of what exactly to say beforehand so it probably took him a good minute to finally explain his feeling.

 Fiance(e): How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?

Not the wildest about marriage, he'd do it if you want though. You can also do it almost whenever, he doesn't care too much as long as he knows you love eachother. Probably wouldn't marry you like a year into the relationship though.

Gentle: How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?

He's nice and not too rough with you, but he's certainly not gentle either. Expect plently of excited hugs when you two see achother. He does care when you feel bad but he mostly just tries to distract you, unless he can fix it, then he'll gladly be your hero.

 Hugs: Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?

Hugs you a lot, doesn't even think about it either. He's naturally an affectionate partner and love's hugs. He just kinda squeezes you for 7 to 30 seconds and probably gives you a few little kisses too if you're up for that.

 I love you: How fast do they say the L-word?

Depends a bit on how your relationship started, longest it will take is a month into you guys being together.

 Jealousy: How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?

He gets pretty jealous every once in a while. Dislikes when you spend too much time with other people, also doesn’t like it at all when other guys (or girls) talk to you like they’re into you. Definitely a hugger when jealous, if it’s bad enough he’ll mention that you two are together.

Kisses: What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?

Loves to kiss you. He gives lots of excited kisses on the lips and cheek (mostly lips). His kisses aren’t all too rough though even if they’re fast, they’re always sweet.

Little one: How are they around children?

He's... alright. He's not the worst, but good is an overstatement. He likes to play with them until he's accidentally too rough and they start crying. He doesn't handle the moody ones well, but shy ones dont work either. Would not change diapers if its a baby, or do anything important in general. 3.5/10 with kids imo.

Morning: How are mornings spent with them?

Shakes you awake because he doesn't wanna be the only one awake. Thinks mornings are better when he drags you along with him to get IHOP once you two are ready, but at least he pays so thats a plus. Likes to go to the park afterwards so he can walk with you and start a race back to the car when done.

Night: How are nights spent with them?

He watches a movie before bed, won't force you to partake but will beg every time. After that he does the nightly rituals and struggles to choose a position to sleep in for about 20 minutes, then remembers something he wanted to look up and talks to you about it. Falls asleep midway through reading about it. You'd assume this would be annoying, but it grows on you.

Open: When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?

A lot of people assume he's an open person but he does have things he keeps to himself. Doesn't do it all at once, just brings it up every once in awhile or if something reminds him of it. Doesn't linger on it too long, but you do start to learn his life story and whatnot the longer the relationship goes on.

Patience: How easily angered are they?

Not too easily angered. Some things can get to him though after awhile but after being frustrated for about five hours he forgives you. Can be pretty petty every once in awhile though.

Quizzes: How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?

Remembers about 70% of what you say, he tries to listen so he can get an idea of what gifts you'd like or to hear your interests. If he hears your impressed about something you saw, he might try it himself. Doesn't remember everything you say though, especially if you tell it while he's busy. Sometimes you say "hey, remember when i told you- (blah blah blah)?" and he'll lie that he does, then pretend to know all about the subject.

Remember: What is their favorite moment in your relationship?

Definitely something stupid. Either the time he snuck a (live) snake into a glass jar in the kitchen while you were in there or when he got you to come with him to a horror escape room and you two were chased by a man in a clown costume.

Security: How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?

He'd protect you if you're in any danger, without much thought really. He is the hero so it makes sense. He doesn't get protective over too many things that aren't dangerous though, like you having other friends who are guys or anything like that. Doesn't like it if people hit on you though, not like he'll cause a scene or anything but he certainly won't allow it to pass by.

Try: How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?

GIANT show off. Sometimes, though. Sometimes he'll just drive around with you while listening to music, or he'll take you to mcdonalds. Don't be shocked if he takes you on a luxury cruise for your fourth anniversary though. Also a fan of road trips to major spots in the USA with side trips to things like the salt and pepper shaker museum, or the biggest cowboy hat. LOVES day trips even if nothing special is happening though, expect one a week.

Ugly: What would be some bad habits of theirs?

Wore axe body spray at some point. Lasted two days until someone (you don't know who) had a talk with him about it. Depending on your opinion his fast food eating, and eating out very often in general might get annoying. Always pounds himself with cologne, sometimes multiple ones at once so he smells like a walking scent store. Would have a whole closet for 4th of july stuff, and sometimes brings the stuff out even when its not a partiotic holiday. Oh, also he has his flag on his boxers so look forward to seeing that if you look at the laundry.

 Vanity: How concerned are they with their looks?

Pretty shameless. He likes to wear really stupid stuff out and about to get stares since he thinks its funny. Does put some attention to what he wears though, especially if he feels its important. He likes to think he dresses good for the most part though.

Whole: Would they feel incomplete without you?

He does think you're really important, but incomplete isn't what he'd describe. He thinks of you two as not only dating, but also best friends. He does miss you though when you two are apart, but he doesn't think about you all the time either. Never think of it as you not not being valuable to him though.

Xtra: A random headcanon for them.

Cooks barbecue every damn weekend, every other week theres a pool party with it too. Since his house definitely has a pool. People there are a mix of complete strangers and close friends of his you never met before. Be prepared for that.

Yuck: What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?

He's pretty open to various types of people, he doesn't like people who argue a lot though. Doesn't like extremely negative people either, especially if it brings everyone else down too. Of course, people who are sad or not overly positive in general are fine, he actually tries to help them feel better. Doesn't like the idea of someone who dominates his life either, he wants to be able to do things without being dragged down by his partner.

 Zzz: What is a sleep habits of theirs?

Snores, noticeably but not too badly. Sleep talks too. Moves around. Always close to you though, will not ever leave ur side. Even if it means your being pulled with him if he falls off the side of the bed, which has happened before. Was funny to him, but not you.

#aph america x reader #hetalia #hetalia x reader #aph america #hws america #hws america x reader #america x reader #hetalia america

[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 13: " He's gone. " ✎▫✧⭒…

Everything in the world was still right now. The heat had recently swept through (Y/n)'s city, causing an overwhelming amount of warmth in the streets. A slight cold breeze had been a saving grace to the citizens having to deal with the current heatwave. Many people were in their homes or visiting malls to cool off. Lazing around was a popular activity for those who chose to stay in their homes.

(Y/n) was included in that bunch.

The young woman had been laying down on a picnic blanket underneath a tree in her backyard. The tree had been there ever since she's gotten this place and it was certainly a favorite of hers. The branches, with or without their leaves, gave her company whenever she had restless nights. It had been like a friend, who trudged through, giving the shadows that covered her from the moon's light. 

Her eyes stare up at the tree, watching little critters run around. Squirrels had made this tree their home. The sun's rays peeked through gaps between leaves, illuminating some of (Y/n)'s features.

Despite the radiance she received from the sun, she was as dull as ever. The young woman still struggled with her mental health but she took advice from her parents and close friends. She had to cave in because the days had been getting rather difficult to trudge through. With a bit of therapy and support from everyone, things have been much more bearable. 

Work was going smoother now and she was able to socialize as much as before. Felicia and Matthew had been giving her some food through their countless house visits over the past few weeks. Her separated parents found time to call her to check in after she told them about her struggles. They were caring, understanding, and kind. 

They had promised to look after her years ago and they were fulfilling it. 

It was safe to say that (Y/n) was surrounded by people that loved her, but the same can't be said for her love life. Her relationship with her main romantic interest was blurry right now. Her heart ached for a man who likely has a wife and grandchildren by now, but he was possibly not even alive anymore. Either way, the bridge she had built cannot even reach her destination. A restless fog had covered her sights for the end of the bridge. 

It was impossible to cross.

This relationship had been the main source of her misery and (Y/n) had been aware of it for so long. She always thought she could make it work and she fails to see that it has been steering in the wrong direction. The young woman devoted her love to a man that, she believed, loves her back. No one else but Matthew and Felicia knew about this. 

Thank god her parents didn't know. They'd tell her to fully detach herself from him, which seems like something she just can't do. She loved him too much and there was a lot to lose, seeing how her mental health hinges on the very thought of him.

Jones. 

(Y/n) shook her head, dismissing her thoughts. She cannot let herself get lost thinking about him again. Closing her eyes, she let out a sigh, before she opened them once more. The sun was still there, the sky was still as blue as ever, and the tree was still green and brown. She was still laying on a picnic blanket with containers of food surrounding her. 

Evidence of her picnic with Matthew earlier today. 

After a while of sky-watching, the young woman sits up. She pushes her hands through her hair as she adjusts to her new position. She blinked once, twice, three times, before continuing to push herself up to a stand. She gathered the remnants of today's activity and headed into her cold home. The backyard lays dormant for the rest of the afternoon, as (Y/n) once again cooped up in her house. 

The tv in the dark living room played noise in the background as she cooked dinner for one, with a little extra to be served as leftovers for tomorrow. The warm, orange light of the kitchen illuminates her form, but she remains cold always. The heat had left her home as soon as the sun disappeared. The temperature was deathly cold.

Her hands weren't shivering, but there was a chill pressed against her back, overseeing her chop vegetables and put them all in a pot. (Y/n) paid no mind to the presence, as she had been accustomed to it. The cold was always there, hugging her whenever possible. It lived here with her, almost like a partner, and she's grown to love it. 

As a matter of fact, she's always been in love with it. 

She only saw him once, but she always felt him. He was here, always stalking her during the night and disappearing for the morning. The moon energized him, (Y/n) believed), and she was fine with it. She supposed she could use the company.

(Y/n) hummed softly to herself as she finished cooking. It was done now and she could finally dine in the comfort of her living room. Wherever she went, the cold drifted alongside her. It sat beside her on the couch as she played something on the tv to keep her distracted from her thoughts. She ate her dinner, watched for a little while, and eventually went away to follow her usual nightly routine.

Afterward, she rested on her bed, her eyes staring at the abyss. The light of the moon seeped through the gaps between the leaves of the tree and the window, illuminating the area just a bit. It wasn't enough to keep the apparitions from appearing above her. 

Beside her was her phone, playing a random song to fill up the silence. Her (e/c) eyes continue to gaze at the darkness. She tried finding the sparkle of broken glasses again, though he did not appear. Not after that other night, after her dad's visit, did he appear again. The specter she wanted to believe was Jones never showed itself to her again. The ghosts that she saw tonight were the cells in her eyes, floating around in their liquid casing. 

Although she can't see him, she could feel him. The room is still as cold as ever, even if she had her blanket around her. There wasn't a hint of pressure beside her, but he was somewhere here. Watching her, protecting her, she'd liked to believe. The company didn't make her fall asleep, however. There was anxiety gnawing her insides. 

There were only two letters left in the box, and the decline Jones has been going through has not been bright. There were a few light-hearted letters but (Y/n) felt as if that was an attempt to make himself feel better. The war wasn't going well, or at least that's what Jones believed. (Y/n) feared that the last two letters will be anything but good news.

She had every right to think about it that way. 

Even if it was going to be good news, it'll end terribly for her. She'd lose him. The letters are all she had of the soldier.

The young woman continued to stare at the ceiling, letting her fears chew her insides. Eventually, through fatigue, she would fall into a deep sleep, only to wake early in the morning. The sun barely peeked through the horizon. The room was still cold, but only because of the morning chill that occupied her home. The presence that watched over her was gone. (Y/n) was truly alone in her room. 

The (h/c)-haired lady stayed in her room for a few hours, unmoving from her position. She'd pondered and imagined scenarios in her head to make her feel better. It distracted her from the gloom that came with opening the second to last letter. When she had enough energy, she stood up and proceeded with her morning routine. 

There, in the bathroom, she felt him. A cold spot was in the corner, and behind the shadows of her door, she saw a figure. The glint was barely visible, but she could make out his form. (Y/n) stared at the apparition, connecting eyes with him for a moment, before he would fade into the darkness of the shadow. From the mirror, she continued to maintain eye contact. Her body was unmoving, fearing if she did move, he would too. 

Her heart ached. 

"Come back, I want to see you," she'd say. This was the second time she'd see him. But the ghost wouldn't comply, for he had already expended energy to be slightly visible today. It may be that her eyes were just seeing things, but (Y/n) believed it was him. Her still body would eventually move to finish the rest of her routine. When she left, he'd appear within the darkness of her unlit bathroom. (Y/n) felt him move with her, just hovering around. 

She stared at the box that held the letters. The second one was sitting on her lap, ready to be opened, but her focus was on the last one that sat at the bottom of the box. Biting her lip, she turned her attention to the one already out of the container. She swallowed her emotions and ripped open the envelope. She didn't want to scan the letter.

It was all going to be the same.

"Good morning, Jones," (Y/n)'s voice cracked at the mention of his name. "How are you feeling?"

She already knew the answer.

To my darling angel, The operation at the beach was a success, but unfortunately, angel, I'm heavily wounded. I don't think I have that much time to live and I'm okay with that, honestly. I've come to accept that my death is nearing. There's not that much for me to live for anyway. Alex...he's gone. He died the day we stormed the beach. He told me he was going to live but he immediately got shot the moment the ramp opened. It's only been a few days since I last saw him but his image is still burned into my memory. Him, along with the annoying thoughts continue to haunt me. I think death is the only way to get them out of there. I'm the only one left out of my friends anyway. Nobody at home will miss me too much. All my friends are dead because of me and I can't handle the guilt of it all. I can't. It's always been my fault. I've already told Ma and Pa about giving up. They tell me to keep living, but it's hard. I don't want to have them deal with me. I know by the time I come back home, I'm not going to have an easy life. I'm so fucked up, it'll be so hard for me to get accustomed to civilian life again. I'll have so many problems and I don't want Ma and Pa dealing with all of that. I'd rather just get rid of the problem and spare them the trouble. I would live for you but I think it'd be useless. You don't love me anymore. You don't even think about me anymore, so what's the point? You've already, probably, tossed the letter aside. But that's okay. I understand. I won't hold any grudges against you because I know it's hard to love me. If you ever live with me after the war, you'd have the same problems as Ma and Pa. Leaving would make everyone feel better. I'll still love you regardless, even in my dying breath, my angel, I'll still love you. I've always told myself that I'd be your protector, so maybe, if God is good and great, he'll let me. At night, I'll be there, to make sure you're safe and happy. Maybe I can watch over you. I'd forever be the moon to your stars, my darling. I've been in and out of consciousness, or so I've been told. I've been in this med-bay for a while now and I know I can't make it out of here alive. It's kind of funny. I've always wondered what it was like to have death at my doorstep. I thought he'd be cold and overbearing, but he's actually a pretty sweet guy and gives people warmth and comfort whenever they need it. I feel him everywhere in this warm medical bay. He's always been by my side, waiting for my time and I'm afraid that it's already nearing. He sits on my bed and watches over me like the nurses and doctors that tend to my wounds every day.  He's here with me right now while I'm writing this letter. He's telling me that I should write down everything I want to say to you. He's telling me to snap out of it though, but how can I? The very thought of you gives me comfort. Maybe one day, I will, but for as long as I breathe, I'll forever think about you. My vision is fading, baby. I pray to God he'll let me write to you once more. Just one more day, angel, and maybe another. I want to see you again in my dreams. Maybe he'll let me since I can sleep peacefully now. Forever yours, Jones

(Y/n) looked at the letter in her hands, resonating with his acceptance. Her hands tightly gripped the paper as she stared at his writing. It was messy in some parts, but he tried to be neat. There were tear stains on the aged paper. The young woman had a feeling that, even if he said he accepted death, there was a part of him that didn't want to go. He was still in his youth. He wanted to live but what he went through made it impossible for him. 

The (h/c)-haired woman doesn't know the extent of his injuries, but the way he put it, he was gravely wounded. Even if he could be honorably discharged, his wounds make living life impossible. (Y/n) hated having to think about him in this state, but that's all she had in her mind. The thought of him being confined to a bed all his life, drinking medicine to overcome the pain.

It hurt her.

Though, the thought of him dying too, hurt her just as much. 

(Y/n) placed the letter against her lips, giving him her usual send-off. "I pray for your recovery, Jones," the young woman would say. She knew the inevitable was coming, but she wanted to believe that he was able to change his mind and fight for his life. The last letter in the box might be proof that he's moved on from his beloved and he went on to live a long, prosperous life. 

Despair lingered around her as she tucked the piece of paper back into its envelope. She stared at the aged paper for a bit before hiding it in her drawer. She lingered at her bed for a moment, as she felt a presence surround her. She could only smile before she'd shed a tear and cry out the emotions in her chest. 

She'd muster her feelings at some point and put them all in a bottle for future use. (Y/n) left her bed, with her phone in her hand, and went to the bathroom to freshen up once more. She put on a bit of makeup and redness-correcting eyedrops to mask the fact that she ended up crying this morning. A notification ping echoed in the bathroom.

Matthew must be here. 

He organized another hang-out with her today because he said he was feeling "a bit lonely". (Y/n) knew it was just a way for him to check up on her. He was aware that they were coming up on the last few days of her obsession. He wanted to make sure that she can get out of this situation alive and well. With the way (Y/n)'s been acting, both of them knew that it'll end in an emotional spiral. Matthew wanted to be there for her when that happens. 

The young woman stared at her appearance in the mirror and tugged the corners of her lips to fabricate a smile. It was good enough to wear. She sent her friend a text saying that she was going to get ready. She changed her clothes, fixed her hair, and made her way out with her belongings at hand. Matthew was standing outside her door, holding his fluffy, white dog with the leash.

"Hey. There you are," Williams grinned as he sent a wave to his friend. "Come on. If we don't leave soon, the beach is gonna be filled with a ton of people and we won't have a spot for us." Kuma barked in agreement with his owner, causing (Y/n) to genuinely smile.

"I've already got my things so we can start heading out now." The young woman went over to the Canadian's car and placed her few things in the trunk. Kuma had already hopped onto the backseat, already secured and ready for the trip. (Y/n) rode shotgun with Matthew in the driver's seat. She was given the aux cord so she played whatever music interested her at the moment. 

The drive to the beach was long but comfortably quiet. Somewhere through the drive, (Y/n) managed to fall asleep. It may have been general fatigue that knocked her out, or maybe it was due to the crying session she had prior to the trip. Maybe it was simply a little bit of both. 

Matthew often looked to his side to check on his friend. His focus was on the road, sure, but when they were stopped at a light, he would take his glances. A sigh left him when he saw signs of what happened to her before he appeared at her door steps. Despite her going to therapy, it was still taking a toll on her. Matthew would know. He's been there before, though it wasn't as heavy hitting as hers. 

He's always pondered how she got here, but he never fully dwelled on the thought for too long. Many people have different ways of getting to that point. It would be hard for him to understand where she was. She was dealing with a tough situation and he was only going to be there to support her.

Not question her. 

The day was still relatively young when they arrived at the beach. It took them a while to get a parking spot but they were here. Just the two of them, at the beach. Other people were near the shore, like families and couples that took their afternoon strolls. (Y/n) sat around with Kuma as Matthew set up most of their things, from the umbrella to the cooler that held the snacks he prepared earlier today.

Kuma panted, feeling the heat warm him up. With a dog that had such a thick coat, he was barely surviving in this heat. What kept him going was the fan that had been pointed at his face. (Y/n) sat by the hound's side, staring at the clear blue water surrounding the grey beach. The sounds of people and the water comforted (Y/n), but there was a thought that stayed in her mind. 

Jones.

A few letters ago, he mentioned pretty beaches and how he's always wanted to visit one with his significant other. As she stared at the water that threatened to come by their towels, she thought of him and his wish. She wanted to fulfill that with him, but she wasn't his. She could be, in her mind, but in reality, she can't. 

Her eyes envisioned him with her. The image she's created of him may not be true to life, but this was her Jones. His glasses were pristine and his smile was stuck on his face. He wore his green uniform, his hat, and sparkling medals on his chest. He was with her and he was well. Though the image of him disappeared when Matthew called out to her.

"You're blanking out," the blonde told her. He sat in front of her, with his back turned toward the waves. "Here. I got some snacks from the cooler. I dunno if you've already eaten yet, but it'd be nice to have something for the stomach, you know." Matthew had a sweet smile on his face as he handed his friend the food he packed for today. (Y/n) stared at it and nodded her head.

"Thank you, Mattie." She'd take a bite and feel slightly better. She'd turn her gaze away to look at the spot Jones had been. Matthew noticed her look and did the same, finding no one near them, though he could find a couple playing in the water. Her eyes were still blank and it looked like she was having a hard time focusing on the moment.

"I know there's something on your mind, (Y/n)," Matthew confronted her. 

"I'm fine," she mumbled.

Matthew noticed the sign and decided to give up almost immediately. He'd wait for her to tell him. It's no use trying to pry open something that didn't want to be opened. He would sit next to his dog, Kuma, who was now laying down on the blankets. The fan that kept him cool was still whirring in front of him as he took his afternoon nap. 

The Canadian stared out to sea, watching the water crash onto the shore. (Y/n) was doing the same, except her eyes saw something different. Her beloved soldier was there, playing in the water, smiling at her. His speck of green stood out in the sea of blue.

She was seeing things. 

The duo shared the silence as they sat around. (Y/n) broke their peace by saying, "Did you know...the letters mentioned a beach." Matthew looked to his friend, his eyebrow arching, asking her to continue. 

"Jones...he wanted to go to the beach with his girlfriend," (Y/n) continued, "he was stationed at a beach when he wrote that letter. All he ever thought about was her, you know. It pains me a lot to think about it. How he might not even get to see her at a beach." The young woman hugged her legs, but her (e/c)-colored eyes continued to stare at the sea. 

"I opened another letter today. The second to last one." There was hesitance in her voice. "He's dying, Matthew. And I'm scared that the last letter- tomorrow's letter- might be his written will." The man she was talking to would continue to be silent so she could voice her thoughts. That's all she needed to do anyway, to make herself feel just a bit better.

"I don't want to lose him. You know this already. That last letter is going to be the death of me."

Matthew's periwinkle eyes stared at his friend as he listened to her. "You know you have to let him go eventually. You can't let some dead soldier hang onto you and break you like this, (Y/n)." He hated seeing her go through something as painful as this, especially since her pain is coming from a dead man. Matthew can't confront the dead. 

(Y/n) dipped her head and let out a muffled, "I know." Her heart broke just a bit when Matthew spoke to her. She knows he's right, but she's stubborn. She'll let Jones break her anyway. Matthew reached out to her and placed a hand on her back. He could feel her breaths becoming shallow. She was going to lose it. The blonde did his best to comfort her, through small rubs and pats on her shoulders. 

He'd help her with breathing exercises and they worked, for the most part. It's hard to get rid of her thoughts about Jones though. Matthew didn't know that the beach would have such an effect on her. He should have planned this outing better. A hum leaves the Canadian as he looked at his friend. The friends connected gazes and smiled at each other. 

"I'm okay," (Y/n) would tell him. They knew both she wasn't, but she was going to try and be better. Looking back at the sea, she'd spot the blue again. The speck of green was still there and the faint apparition of Jones lingered in the water. He no longer had a pristine uniform. Dried blood coated his haunting form and his glasses were cracked. She could never see his face but she always looked out for his smile. 

It wasn't there anymore.

(Y/n) stared at the figure in the water, before the wave crashed over him, making him disappear completely. The young woman's lips pursed together and forced a smile. She hasn't told anyone about the visions she's been seeing because she knew that people would think of her as insane. No one would believe her if she said she was being haunted by the object of her fascination.

They spent today's afternoon lazing around the shore under the umbrella and playing. They build sandcastles and buried each other under the sand to distract (Y/n) from her thoughts. At the end of it all, they walked Kuma down the shore, letting the heated pup wet his feet to cool down. Kuma ended up being drenched in seawater, which Matthew had to clean once they were home.

To say that the beach hangout was a success would be a lie, but (Y/n) enjoyed spending time with her friend, Matthew. The blonde walked her to her home and made sure to give her his usual send-off for the night. He gently wrapped his arms around her for an embrace and kept her close for a bit. (Y/n) relished the hug and laughed a little when she felt her friend squeeze her.

"Good night, Mattie," she would say.

"Good night, (Y/n)," he'd reply back. "I trust you. Please don't do anything bad."

"I won't."

The two friends drifted apart and sent each other their final waves for the night. (Y/n) disappeared inside her cold, dark home. She lingered in there for a moment with her eyes scanning her surroundings for a hint of green amongst the void. Nothing, per usual. She turned on the lights of her home and got ready for dinner and her nightly routine.

It was the same old. Nothing ever changed. 

The young woman would rest her head on her pillow and stare at the void that wrapped around her. She'd feel pressure at the foot of the bed, finding a glimpse of green. 

This is the third time- now.

He moved ever so slightly in the dark. His broken glasses gleamed underneath the moonlight. (Y/n) stared at him before she moved. Her hand met his bloodied fingers halfway and they lingered there.

He was cold, colder than her freezer, colder than the artic, but the smile he held was warm and comforting. The young woman couldn't tell if she was hallucinating things or if his apparition was truly there. He began to shift into a blur the more she stared at him. 

"Stay-" (Y/n)'s meek voice called out. His form could only smile.

Then he was gone. 

"No-" she'd whispered after. Her fingers curled into a fist as she hugged her legs. Tears swelled in her eyes as she cried. This night would leave her with no sleep, as her tears and thoughts kept her awake. There was no need to worry though. She doesn't have work for another day, anyway.

The sun would rob the moon's spotlight, filling the world with light. It would seep through the tree that hid (Y/n)'s window. The young woman was at her bed as still as a rock. Her eyes were unmoving, staring at the ceiling, and waiting for the day to pass. 

Today was the last day, then after that, no more letters. A year has passed already, but it didn't feel like it. 

She'd lose energy but she could never regain it. (Y/n) lacked the need to sleep as her mind was constantly busy. She'd move a limb, then another, until she's fully out of bed. She moved like the undead, trudging along her floor until she managed to limp to the bathroom. The darkness of it all gave her comfort. Her (e/c)-colored eyes looked for green but found nothing. 

With a sigh, she turned on her lights and continued what she would usually do in the morning. (Y/n) corrected the bags under her eyes and practiced smiling. She's been doing this for a while now and there hasn't been significant progress. She could never feel truly happy.

Approaching the final day made her more miserable. 

But unlike Jones, she has too much to live for. She needed to keep fighting whatever was bringing her down.

Once finished, she appeared in her bedroom again. (Y/n) looked at the spot she knew held the box. Her stare was intense and her body was as still as she could get. Anxiety filled her stomach immediately but she reached forward and opened it. 

The last letter sat comfortably in its spot, waiting to be opened. (Y/n) didn't want to, but she knew she had to. Biting her lip, she plucked it from the bottom. There was something odd about this one. It was heavier than the others. It threw the woman off, but she pushed forward and she gently ripped the envelope.

The letter had been folded neatly inside and there were a few souvenirs too. The young woman knew that the man enjoyed sending home gifts, but these were different. She opened the paper and found dog tags and a black and white photo. (Y/n) looked at the photograph first. 

There was a man posing for his photo. He appeared to have blonde hair and bright eyes with small, square glasses sitting atop his nose. His complexion was clear and pale but flushed cheeks. He had a gleaming smile that completed everything. He wore a dark uniform that held no badges or metals. The soldier was young, handsome, and didn't have a care in the world.

(Y/n) turned the photo around to find writing in pen that said, "Me! Send copies to Ma, Pa, and Mattie when able!" There was no mention of a feminine name anywhere, but that wasn't what she was hyper-fixated on right now. Her thoughts revolved around the idea that she can put a face to him now. Her heart jumped for joy, but at the same time, she brought herself down. 

This was the last letter. She can't envision him after this is over. The fact made her emotional, which was enough to put some tears in her eyes. She placed his photo down and looked at the dog tags that accompanied the letter. 

"Alfred F. Jones," she whispered. That was his name. Alongside it were numbers, his blood type, his religion, and another name, though this didn't seem like his girlfriend or anything. She was thinking it was his mother since it said "Mrs. F. Jones."

(Y/n) could be heard muttering his name over and over again. She still had the urge to call him Jones. Placing the memorabilia down, she turned her attention to the letter. It was pristine, but she finally noticed there were a few blood splotches on the edges. It's aged, dried blood, which was a cause of concern for her, but it didn't matter. 

None of it matters anymore. 

"Good morning, Alfred," she'd greet. It was much more personal now. "How are you doing, darling?" She'd try to make herself feel better, but the greeting caught her off guard. It sounded like he was distancing himself away. He didn't call her angel anymore.

To whoever finds these letters, I hope they reach you well. I don't have that much time left in me, but I'd like to write down my feelings and my thoughts. I'm not asking for big audience, but if there is one, and you're the one, please listen to me. That's all I ask. I've been given a lot of paper, so I have enough to put down everything. At least I think so anyway. They say I can always ask for more, but I doubt I can. Breathing is getting significantly harder for me, but I'm trying to live just so I can write. I'm trying to unpack so that in the next life, I'll be given a fresh start. I want to leave everything here in my old body. I don't necessarily believe in the afterlife or in reincarnation, but I just want to leave my baggage here. Experiencing the near end of my life has given me a lot to think about. I've always thought it's impossible to find clarity in death, but now I'm getting first-hand experience and I can't help but think it's funny. I used to think it was strange but now I'm going through it right now. I've found peace in knowing that I'm going to leave soon and that has given me a clear head. I hope this is the first letter you've read because the past ones, the ones that will be sent to my home with this one, are filled with nonsense from a grieving madman. I don't care if you send these letters to a museum, just don't send them to my parents. Send them specifically to my house. If they've seen that their son has gone utterly insane over the years would hurt so much. You can put this anywhere you want, actually, just as long as someone reads them. It could be you, it could be anyone willing to listen to me. I just want to be heard. I want to be seen. I want others to know how a man can suffer because of this war. I don't know when you'll be finding these. You could be reading this years after I die. Just- you know, if you do happen to see my letters, please treat them with care, or not. Throw them away, just- please read them or send them somewhere where people actually care. You can even send it to a museum or something.  Leave the rest of these letters unopened so the curators can read them. They'll treat these with care, that is if they are still in good health and these letters are legible, but if you want, you can also take care of them. I don't know why, though, but if you think it's fine then be my guest. But if this is the last letter you've read, then I have a few words to tell you. Thank you, and I'm sorry you've had the misfortune of knowing me. I appreciate the fact that you've read everything because that's all I needed. I just needed someone to listen to me, even if it'll take days or years for someone to find these. You could be anyone, really, and I wouldn't care who you are because regardless, I appreciate you. I'm grateful for your patience and your sympathy because the Lord knows someone like me doesn't deserve it. The thought of someone finding these letters and reading them is enough to make me happy on my deathbed. Thank you so much for taking the time of your day to listen to me and my stupid, incoherent ramblings. Hey, you've been with me the entire journey. You made it this far. If I caused something to you while you're reading the past few letters please know I didn't mean to hurt you. I appreciate your sympathy, I genuinely do, but I am deeply sorry for the pain I may have caused. I've caused too much to other people and the last thing I want is for another person to be hurt because of me.

There were tear stains on the next few pages, but they were still legible. The paper seems fresh too, but it looks somewhat aged.

My darling angel, This is to you personally. I know you're reading this because you've come this far and haven't discarded me yet. I have one thing to confess and I hope that you can listen to me and forgive me. I've hurt you the most and I realize this might hurt you even more. Please, I ask for you to forgive me and listen to the words I have to say. Throughout my life, I didn't think angels ever existed. I'm not a religious man myself, but through the course of the war, I've started to believe God placed an angel to watch over me. You kept me happy and made me sane when things were rough. But the thing is- You never existed. You were never a physical person. In a way, you made me go mad. With some clarity, I realize that creating you was just my brain reaching for ways to feel better. Maybe my silent prayers were heard and God actually placed an angel to be with me from the start. Maybe I willed you into existence. But- You initially came in a form of a joke. I pretended to have a girlfriend because I felt left out. I thought it was funny to pretend to have someone to love. The rest of my friends had their own girlfriends to write to, but I was the only one who didn't have one. So I decided to play along and pretend that you existed, but then the more I wrote to you, a person who doesn't even exist, you became something to me.  You never had a physical body because you stemmed from my imagination. I projected to you the qualities I had. I also gave you hobbies I wanted to see. I believed that you were listening to me because Lord knows that's all I needed while I was fighting this damn stupid war. I made myself fall in love with the idea of you, which is by far the stupidest but the best thing I've done in my life. While I was thinking of you, you felt so real to me. It came to the point where I thought you were a living, breathing person that could actually write back to me. Everyone else was getting letters and I didn't. Not getting anything from you made me frustrated, but I held on to you so much because you're all I had. It pains me that you never existed, because I would have loved you so much, wholeheartedly. I would have done everything for you because the idea of you made me so happy. You were my everything.  I find my words weird and crazy the more I write them now, but this is how I genuinely feel. I fell in love with a figment of my imagination, but if by some miracle, you truly exist, I would have loved to see you. To hold you, to bring you out on dates, to kiss you. I want to do everything with you and I hope that in another life, I get to meet you. God has to be merciful enough to give me another chance. Maybe I'll win the life lottery in the next one, eh? I genuinely am sorry for the pain I've caused you. I've tried making it up to you. I promised you that I'd be the moon to your stars, that I'd be there to protect you. I've done all I can. I don't know if I could ever become a ghost, or whatever the hell exists out there, but if I could, I would be there at night, watching over you. I'd keep any dangers away from you because I'd hate to see you get hurt.  I've already hurt you so much, I don't want anything else harming you.  I know it's a lot to unpack. I know I've rambled. I know I've said a lot of shit, but it's all how I feel. This is the baggage I'll leave this body. I know I don't have that much time anymore so I'll cut it here. Breathing is getting hard for me but hey, I think I'll die peacefully. Thank you, my darling. I hope I get to see you in another life. I'll find my way to you again. I promise. I love you. Lovingly, and always forever yours, Alfred

Silence hung in (Y/n)'s bedroom as she stared at the letter in her hands. He was right. There is a lot to unpack, but the young woman doesn't have enough strength to handle it right now. Her vision is blurred with her tears, which dripped down to the paper. Her hands were shaking and soon enough her body would follow. 

Heat seeped through her room, but the area in front of her was deathly cold. Rubbing tears from her eyes, she could see just a bit clearer. Before her was an apparition of Alfred. He wore a clean, green uniform with brand-new glasses. The rest of him was in black and white, mimicking his appearance in his photograph.

Alfred knelt in front of her with his hands cupping her own. He held his usual bright smile but tears also ran down his cheeks. 

"I love you too, Alfred," she'd whisper. "I loved you so much."

They stared into each other's eyes. Slowly, he'd rise and press his lips against hers. 

A final parting gift.

The young woman would take at this moment and she'd close her eyes. They lingered for a bit before he'd leave. There were no more traces of him in her vision. She stared at the clear floor. The perpetual cold temperature of her room disappeared completely and the heavyweight that constantly rested on her shoulders disappeared.

Her mind was given clarity, but her chest was heavy with grief. This was the general grief experienced after losing a loved one though. It wasn't like the one she's felt over the past few months. She didn't feel the world on her shoulders anymore.

But this was at the cost of Jones. 

He no longer haunted her.

Perhaps the remnants of his soul have served their purpose and have gotten what they wanted.

(Y/n) smiled as she blankly stared at the spot Alfred knelt at. She'd eventually approach her door to try and get her day started. To make herself think about something else. To start the process of healing. Before she could leave she'd hear a whisper in her ear.

"I loved you too, (Y/n)."

#i forgor to post this #sorry yall #hws america x reader #hws x reader #hetalia x reader #hetalia #alfred f jones x reader #aph america x reader #x reader #fem reader #reader insert

[mxromanoitaly]

✰ "in space, no one can hear you scream" ✰

hetaween—day one

"Space is a sheer and horrifying blackhole—gloomy, terrifying, finality. The deeper away from Earth’s gravitational influence, the darker and yet darker it grows."

CW: Death, Character Death, Mentions of Death, Murder, Mentions of Murder, Blood, Descriptions of Blood, Vomit, Descriptions of Vomit, Angst, No Romance, No Relationship, Use of Human Names, Reader-Insert, Gender-Neutral Reader.

Word Count: 3k

Rating: Explicit for Blood and Death

Event: @hetaween-event-2022

There’s absolutely nothing around for miles except for the desolate and deserted blackness that stares back with a wide gape through the long, horizontal front window of the ship. There are stars that glitter like spilled sparklers far off in the distance, but they offer no solace to the dawning terror of the emptiness. There are no suns, no moons, no planets in sight. There are maybe some stray rocks scattered haphazardly through the blankness, but they are nothing but hidden debris lost to the ages of time. The blackness swallows all.  

Space is a sheer and horrifying blackhole—gloomy, terrifying, finality. The deeper away from Earth’s gravitational influence, the darker and yet darker it grows. Nothing could survive out here, realistically, it was just too cold and spacey. The ship moans quietly. 

You try not to think about it too hard whenever you cast your eyes downward towards the heavy clipboard in your grasp. 

There are lots of papers present, all written in multiple different languages. It is your duty—and your sole one—after all, to translate these pages for the other crew members of the ship so that any possible mishaps and misconceptions don’t accidentally get misconstrued. You keep things running smoothly. Any possible examinations, interpretations, and opinions are kept word for word, and the other crew members stay happy little campers. 

That’s why you’re currently on the other side of hyperspace’s boundaries, surrounded by nothing but cold aerospace-grade aluminum metal and the humming electricity from the ship’s engines and transmissions. 

This mission is meant to test the atmosphere and the theoretical liveability of other organisms, to run a physical experiment about the bodily and mental effects of living in such a sunless place for a prolonged amount of time. That’s also why there’s so many different people from so many different countries currently tucked aboard. America, Canada, China, England, France, and Russia—all smart people who are too smart to be on planet Earth for a second longer and your only talent is that you happen to speak all of the differing languages. Anyone would be elated to be a part of such an important mission to their fellow man, but it’s not all sunshine and rainbows whenever you see the other crew members skirt around in the docking range or whenever they go into the main awning to handle exploding stray asteroids orbiting in close contact. It feels sobering, remorseful somehow. 

You sometimes feel like you just aren’t clever enough to really fit in, but the crew seems to accept you into their little clique anyway. You’re thankful for it, lest you accidentally lose yourself to the forlorn openness of this austere ship. 

Really, it just feels so unreal. 

You glance up at the front window and lose yourself to deep space once again. 

A tap on your shoulders jolts you from your senses and you gasp. 

“Woah! Woah, sorry, dude, I didn’t mean to startle you. Sometimes my presence can be a little intimidating, so… I’ll just take a step back.” 

Alfred F. Jones, the American on board that should currently be buried by wires and motors as he performs a daily checkup, is currently lamely grinning at you whenever you pivot around. Your heartbeat is a mile a minute in your ears and you swear your blood is rushing all the way to your skull whenever you look at him and his pretty sky blue eyes. 

“It’s fine,” it’s not really, but you don’t say that because it sounds rude. “I’ll be okay. Did you need something?” 

Alfred laughs one of his boisterous and cheerful laughs. One that, if you weren’t forced to be in his sometimes overbearing presence, would make you feel all warm in the face and you wouldn’t be able to help yourself if you happened to giggle along. He then rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“Aw, c’mon, can’t a guy just come chat up our very cool—but not as cool as me—person that keeps the others from imploding whenever they talk?” Alfred rocks on the balls of his feet and you realize that his uniform looks darker than usual. 

The jumper suits are meant to be black, with patches that signify rank, field of work, and country of origin. The patches rest on the left breast area, just a little underneath the collarbone. You know Alfred. He’s one of the mechanics that constantly runs diagnositic tests on the ship, while also being a part-time pilot. If it weren’t for him, your crew would go shucking off into oblivion. But… but there’s something wrong with one of Alfred’s work patches: 

a speck of deep maroon. 

Your brows furrow as you regard such an odd thing, but you don’t comment on it just in case it stems from a place of contempt. One of the others could be behind it, or maybe Alfred accidentally stained his uniform. There wasn’t really any bleach in space now, was there? Might as well not bring it to light if it’s not necessary for the mission. His suit is wet, though. Why is his suit wet? 

“You know very well that you need something, Mr. Jones.” your voice is barely above a deadpan. Alfred notices your tone and winces away with a goofy smile and another laugh that seems to really splinter in your ears. His upper body tilts away from you as he shrugs. 

“You’ve got me there, bro.” another bout of laughter that feels just a little too strained now that you really think about it for a second too long, “I really just wanted to come talk to you.” 

You sigh, but it’s not like you’re in that big of a pinch. The only thing you had planned for the next hour was to organize these papers full of reports, essays about stars, and mathematics and science that give you calculations and hypotheses that completely go over your head. You’re supposed to put them in folders that belong to their respective owner, then hand the folder back to them. You’ve finished with the British man, Arthur Kirkland, but you still have about five more folders left to do. If all Alfred wants to do is chat awkwardly, you might have to pass. Something doesn’t feel natural about this, either. 

A shake of your head causes Alfred’s whole body to fall. 

you don’t like that twinkle in his eyes. 

“Sorry, Mr. Jones, but I’m a little busy.” You wave the clipboard around a few times. “See this? I’ve still got to do Francis’ latest controversial opinion about ‘the temperature of two contrasting stars’, since his papers seem the easiest to translate right now. Don’t even get me started on Matthew’s maths! You know, you guys could speak in simpler terms whenever you write these essays. It would make my job a whole lot easier.” 

You halfheartedly chastise the empty expression leering down at you, but it’s all meant to be good fun to lighten the weird mood settled in the atmosphere between the both of you. Alfred apparently finds the humor in it and that grin on his face seems to curl just a little more to the left. He gestures with a wide sweep of his arms as he speaks. There’s something about his face. 

“If we wrote like that, then just about anybody could do our jobs! But we’re way too good to do that. We need our big vocabulary.” 

Annnnd just like that, you can’t help but finally crack a genuine smile. But it feels off. It feels so forced that you feel saliva collect atop your tongue in a dull weight. 

“Sure, sure, I get it.” You shake your head softly, a nervous feeling tickling right about your stomach that feels like a flock of birds flying in a dispersed vee. “Normal people don’t need to understand.” 

Alfred nods once boldly, still emotionless, then gives you a thumbs-up, “Right-o, broski!”

Another chuckle slips past your lips as you glance down at your feet before you shuffle the toes of your pointed shoes around a little bit to let some of the tension clear up. It feels tense. Like something’s not right. Laughing with him like this, it feels like Alfred’s being purposefully too upbeat and you can tell. You’re not usually with the group of men often, but you’ve been around them quite a few times to know that Alfred’s usually full of more snark and sarcasm than this. If you had to guess, you’d say Alfred was being purposefully agreeable with you—almost like he was trying to lull you into submission, to draw you in with a gentle lullaby. It’s so uncomfortable that your shoulders shrink inwards a little and you play with your feet again. 

“Right, well, then I should go ahead and start doing these now. Once I send these back digitally to base, I’ll need to give out translated copies—you know the shtick by now.” You say as a hint for him to depart before your hand stretches forward and starts leafing through the sheets stacked up, but you stop dead in your tracks whenever Alfred says one last thing. 

“Nah, there’s not really a point for that anymore.”

He said that as if he didn’t want you to leave. 

Your brows furrowed hard and you cock your head to level Alfred up. His uniform still hasn’t dried. Is it water? What is that droplet on his patch? What did he do to even get himself in such a mess? 

“Unlike you,” there’s an air of buoyancy in your voice as you speak, light and carefree, “I work seventeen hours out of the day. It must be nice to put the ship on auto-pilot and just occasionally check the motherboard.” 

Alfred stares at you for a long time, a really long time. It almost feels like he’s sizing you up, like he was staring down at his momma’s pie and figuring out how he was gonna cut the pie to get the biggest serving of that gooey goodness. You shudder, but you cover it up by readjusting your lab coat and tightening your grasp on the clipboard. 

Then, 

“Haha, yeah, you’re right. Sorry about that, dude.” 

And then Alfred steps out of your way to let you through. You thank him by curtly nodding your head and mouthing the words as you walk on by, head focused on the ground and eyes wide as saucers as you go past. Once you’re halfway there, you mindlessly lift up one hand to pat his chest in a friendly gesture. Raise, move, pat pat—-stop. 

His uniform is still wet. You forgot about that. What you just touched was whatever was on his jumpers. That’s all that was. But whenever you withdraw your hand, the vitriol scent of iron fills your nostrils and you distinctly taste copper in the back of your mouth. You gape a little, floundering like a fish out of water, and you stumble away in confusion. The scents die away by a fraction, but the memory lingers and you just have to look at Alfred again. 

He’s still watching you with that regarding smile. 

You clamber a few more steps back and your hand slips off of Alfred’s chest. Whenever your arm falls limp to your side, you splutter for another fleeting second as you hastily bring your hand to your face to examine it. There! There there there! On your hand, right there! 

Blood

It’s everywhere! It’s all over you. It’s dripping down and it stains your palm and it smells so bad, you can’t help but gag as the world goes a little loopy around you and you feel so dizzy like you can’t quite comprehend why the fuck there was blood on Alfred’s uniform. Spin and spin. You try to find your balance as you look up at Alfred with shaky limbs and fuzzy eyes. There’s tears in your eyes. You’re crying! 

Alfred just smiles vigorously. 

“I should have probably warned you about that, too, sorry. At least the cat’s out of the bag now, huh?” Alfred has this shit-eating grin plastered across his face and you don’t fucking understand why the hell he’s looking at you like that. What’s so funny? What did Alfred do? 

“What cat? Alfred, don’t you speak in idioms whenever there’s fucking blood on my hand from your jumper. Be serious! What in the hell is this?” 

Alfred puts both of his hands in his pockets slowly and cat-like, almost as if he were teasing you about how erratic and blown-out you sound. There’s a hint of delirium to your voice, but you can’t really help it whenever you flex your hand and then the blood there glimmers beneath the glossy light of the ship. You gag again and throw your hand away from your face so that you don’t have to look it in the eye anymore. The world feels like it’s rocking side to side, and then you realize that that’s your body that’s swaying in the breeze of the ship’s coolant. 

“It’s simple,” Alfred nods. “That’s the blood from Ivan. You know, that one Russian guy? Yeah. He’s dead now.” 

It feels like the floor gives out beneath you whenever you hear that. The image of Ivan flashes in your mind, tall and hunking and bulky and how the hell did you manage to kill someone so sweet? Your body feels lighter than a feather. It feels like you’re walking on tons of clouds, but those clouds are sinking beneath you and your feet are dipping into quicksand that seems to want you, need you. It seems so surreal and you feel bile in your throat as you pinch in the middle before barreling forward to vomit. Hot steam and fluid spat from your mouth makes a nice squelch on the ground as you empty the contents of your anxious stomach. You gag and gurgle and you feel so terribly small compared to Alfred now. The same Alfred that lets you get sick against his work boots. 

Then, whenever your chest heaves a few more times and you’ve managed to catch your breath again, you’re able to say through the smoke and the flames and the unrelenting ignorance that seems to billow around the pins and needles of your limbs, 

“Why?” 

Alfred leans forward as he hums and lets his head go a little askew. 

“I thought this mission was dumb from the get-go. Like, totally ridiculous. I didn’t even want to do it, but my boss said something about firing me if I didn’t go, so here I am. Those other guys didn’t help. They were… kind of, in nice words, annoying, but like not you. You were fine, I guess. I liked chatting with you because you didn’t want to do anything except for your job, too. The others wanted to constantly talk and talk about this mission, and well, whenever you don’t even really want to be here—you see where my frustration comes from?” 

You swallow with chapped lips and let your eyebrows wrinkle upward in disbelief. 

Alfred’s body seems to droop as he straightens his posture and looks down at you over the bridge of his glasses. 

“‘Course you don’t. You don’t even fully understand the mission.” 

Alfred flippantly waves a hand around before he gestures to the spacious window at the front of the ship. His eyebrows are arched as he talks and his jaw looks taut. He doesn’t look at you now. You stare deeply at him. 

“I only agreed to this mission so that I could watch it crash and burn and go to hell and back.” 

You blanched. Your fingertips flex and then unfurl, they shimmer by a fraction and it feels like your tendons are splitting in two as you weakly attempt to ground yourself. There’s this horrible and suffocating dread that runs through your veins like pure quicksilver, like liquid nitrogen and you feel yourself ignite whenever you mull over Alfred’s statement for even just a brief moment. He inhales to say more, and then that’s whenever you raise your bloody palm print to interrupt Alfred. He pauses, then he glances at you from the corners of his eyes. He seems intrigued. 

The words linger at the pad of your tongue, but your palette is dry and parched as you smack your lips a few times and scrounge up the words you want to say. The visages of the other members flash before your mind, and then again, you feel absolutely wretched and sick once more. You have a fit where all of their memories come to the forefront of your mind and you have to close your mouth to avoid vomiting like a sick puppy again. The man in front of you feels so foreign. A ghost of a man, the reflection of someone long gone. How long has Alfred been like this? Was every moment with him nothing but a lie? Had he wanted to kill everyone this whole time? Was he going to kill you next? You retch. 

“Wh-Why did you… did you kill them for it? What was the point? What did they do to deserve that? Why did you…” 

You can’t even finish—the pain is just too much, insurmountable. Tears stream down the apples of your face in torrential tracks and you can’t even clearly see Alfred anymore. He looks blurry. But he’s solid enough that you can see a wicked smirk cross his face and he belts out one final laugh that tells you everything you need to know as he throws his head back and then yells to the Heavens with a hint of insanity tinging his voice that leaves a hollow feeling in the cavity of your chest. And all you can do is let Alfred level you with swirling eyes down the ridge of his nose, as he exclaims 

“Because! My good friend, in Space, no one can hear you scream!” 

#hetaween 2022 #cw character death #cw blood #cw vomit #cw murder #hws america #hetalia #hetalia x reader #america x reader #hws america x reader #mentions of hws russia #hetalia america #aph america #this is not a happy ending kind of story lol #cib writes sfw

[milaisreading]

Y/N: Can you guys please do something for me? *Giving them a cute face.*

*The Hetalia guys are blushing.* The countries: Anything for you. What is it?

Y/N: Can you guys help me to hide a dead body?

Italy, not even bothering to listen: Let me help you, bella!

Germany, calculating in his head how to make the body disappear: Alright, I need gloves,bleach, a bathtub, acid...

Japan, after debating in his head for a moment: Let me call my good old friends.

Yn: Who?

Japan: The Yakuza

America: Alright there, dudette! You hero will go a shovel a hole and you go and think of an alibi!

Canada,after his soul traveled around the globe and came back to him: Alright... I know a place where there is a lot of ice and snow right now

England: Consider that a done job, love. After I am done with it we could maybe grab some food-

France, covering his mouth while looking excitedly at Yn: I will do that, cherie! Then WE can go and have a quiet dinner!

Yn, sweatdropping as they start fighting: You two...

China: Aiya! None of you are old or experienced enough to hide dead bodies, let me do that.

Yn, bow more worried: E-experienced?! You did this before?

China: How do you think did I get rid of your suitors?

Yn: My what?!

China: Not important.

Russia: I will call on a few people I know. Don't worry, sunflower, you won't be suspected even for a second :)

Yn: T-thanks, Russia-

Russia: But, just to make sure, you should stay at my house for a while

The rest of twb group: NO! ARE YOU INSANE?!

Yn, while the others are arguing:... Denmark will pay for this dare...

#hetalia #aph #hetalia axis powers #hetalia allies #hetalia world stars #hetalia world series #hws italy #hws germany #hws japan #hws america #hws canada #hws france #hws england #hws china #hws russia #hetalia reactions #hetalia x reader

[hwsing]

giving head

warnings/notes: 18+, reader is afab and gender neutral. includes: england (arthur kirkland), america (alfred f. jones), france (francis bonnefoy), n.italy (feliciano vargas). as always, reblogs are appreciated

arthur kirkland

while arthur can be an awfully impatient man, he’s quick to slow as he lowers himself to be eye-level with your cunt. he’s the type to nearly drool as he spreads your legs, watching your cunt spread, just for him. he’ll look up to meet your gaze before gently blowing on your clit, his cock twitching in his pants at the way you shudder.

arthur loves to go down on you. despite being all ‘prim and proper,’ he loves a mess; and so, he loves to make you a mess, too. if you let him, there are nights where he’ll give you multiple orgasms through oral alone, ignoring the ache in his cock as you moan out and clamp your thighs around his head. he’ll suck on your clit, his tongue rubbing against it before wondering lower, prodding at your hole; he’ll tongue fuck you, licking against your walls until his tongue hurts. arthur will force your legs apart, wrapping his hands around your thighs as your cunt drools; don’t worry! he’ll clean up after. really, he doesn’t mind at all.

actually, if he’s given permission to be a bit more mean towards you, he’ll tease you for making a mess — he loves to bully you a bit. he’ll even nip or slap your clit if you talk back to him! when you squeak or whine at the pain, he’ll remind you that as long as you behave, he’ll help you cum. he likes feeling completely responsible for your pleasure, and if you let him, he’ll restrain you to further your dependence on him in the moment.

alfred f. jones

while it’s not something that crosses his mind too often, when he has you laid out beneath him, spreading your legs to let him see your pretty pussy, he nearly gets light headed as the blood rushes to his cock at how soaked you are. he says something about how he’s gonna eat you up as he lowers his face, tongue quickly darting out to lick up between your folds.

alfred is the kind of guy who has little technique, but his passion makes up for it completely. he’ll sloppily eat you out, making disgusting slurp sounds the more wet you become; he doesn’t really get why you get so embarrassed sometimes! he loves to hear you call out his name, your hand grabbing at his hair to pull him closer to your cunt. he’ll grin against you, determined to rock your world.

really, really, really likes when you sit on his face. what do you mean you’ll crush him? please, he’s way stronger than he looks, trust him! he’ll grip your hips and force you to lower yourself on his face, humming as you make such pretty noises. this is his favourite way to eat you out; the angle is perfect, and you have no way to push his head away and interrupt him. as long as you let him, he’ll totally get his full from this.

francis bonnefoy

believes that pleasure is a form of art, through and through; he has an intimidating amount of experience, and is quick to discover what you like. whatever your preferences are, francis is more than capable of providing them. he’ll pay close attention to what makes your head spin; experimenting with how to toy with your clit (do you like when he sucks on it softly, or when he practically tries to milk it? do you prefer circular or side-side motions? do you like a slow build up with sudden fast movements?). whatever you like, he’s bound to figure it out, and when he does, he’ll be almost relentless.

he does like to kitten lick, though. truth be told, he does like to tease you, just a bit; he simply wants to hear just how much you want more. he’ll comply the moment you ask, don’t worry! after all, he must reward you for speaking up!

after spending time between your legs, he finds that the smell of you lingers in his scruff. it’s faint, but, he soaks it in — a reminder of your night together. it arouses him so, but he’s patient to wait until next time. he’ll tell you about how much he craves you, how good you taste, how your smell teases him the following day; it’d be cruel to not let him have another taste, no?

feliciano vargas

feliciano prefers receiving, however, don’t let that fool you; he knows his way around your cunt like the back of his hand. he thinks it’s only natural to! he loves you, and loves to make you feel good. he’ll stay between your legs as long as you want him to, more than happy to be of use to you.

this is 100% about you; all he wants is for you to enjoy yourself and get off. the moment you ask, he’s already nudging you towards a place when you can sit down while he falls to his knees, spreading your legs. he’ll sensually lick your clit, swirling his tongue around your bud before wrapping his plump lips around it. he’ll gather spit in his mouth and let it drool down your cunt as he plays with your clit, your sounds of pleasure being music to his ears. he’ll do anything you tell him to do — but, it should be noted that you don’t necessarily have to. he knows what he’s doing; leave it to him, and he’ll bring you up to cloud nine with ease.

feliciano loves when you yank him off your cunt with your hand gripping his hair; he’ll look up at you with his lower face positively drenched, a small grin and lazy eyes meeting yours. “no more, tesoro?” he’ll ask softly, and when you calm down and steady your breath, sheepishly dragging him back to your cunt slowly, he’ll happily reach out, his neck extending to get closer faster, his tongue already darting out to get to your cunt.

#hetalia #hetalia x reader #my work #hetalia x you #aph hetalia #hetalia hc #hetalia headcanons #aph england #england x reader #aph america #america x reader #aph france #france x reader #aph italy #aph north italy #north italy x reader #italy x reader #hws hetalia #hws

[atom-writings]

Can I request the allies helping their S/O when their depression keeps them in bed for a few days, which isn't normal for them.

hetalia allies when their s/o is going through a depressive episode

1.8k words ~ gender neutral scenarios

tw: theyre not always the best but they figure it out (:

a/n: hope this was ok. if u want just like, comfort, thats cool and i can do that too seperately (: but anon i totally get i got crippling depression too. were alll in this togeeethherrr

America

Depressive episodes were nothing out of the usual for you. What was out of the usual though, was just how horribly this one was hitting you. But it seems like the person who it hurt the most, was Alfred.

Once you began spending the majority of your time in bed, he began to bother you incessantly. It'd be more annoying for you if it wasn't clear just how much Alfred was panicking.

Every day he returned from home to find you in your miserable state, he would question your sudden episode over and over again until one of you fell asleep. He offered to take you somewhere, to buy you everything, anything to get you back to normal. No matter how much you insisted that none of that would help, he continued.

That was until one day, upon his return from work, he didn't immediately come up to interrogate your lack of motivation. From your shared bed, you could vaguely hear him fumbling around downstairs. After a while, his footsteps finally echoed up the stairs.

Your door creaked open slowly, revealing Alfred awkwardly carrying bags of snacks as well as a TV. He rushed forward to throw everything on the bed before starting to hook up the TV in front of the bed.

“Alfred?”

“Yeah?“

”What are you doin'?“

”Making this room fun to be in,” He answered bluntly, but his tone was kind.

After a minute, he finished setting up the TV and crawled into bed with you. Before you could say anything, he pulled you flush against his side.

“Staying in here is no good for you, but at least there's ways to make it... less bad.” He told you softly.

You took a moment to respond, ”Can... can you stay in here with me?“

”I'll stay in here until you're ready to leave, K?“

England

As soon as your illness began to rear its ugly head, Arthur took notice. It's not like it hadn't happened before, after all. The unusual eating habits, the exhaustion, how less excited you would become over things you love, it's all typical. So he would help the way he usually did.

If you're too tired for work or school, he gets you out of it. If you're hungry, he makes whatever you want anytime. If you're slacking on chores, he makes up for it two-fold.

The entire time you spend gloomily sitting on your phone or watching TV, Arthur is running from place to place in a panic. It's clear why, he's just desperately trying to ”solve“ your sadness. After all, over his many periods of depression, he always works himself to the bone to get through them. He struggles to understand how you can just... sit there.

But of course, that's not how human depression tends to work. Seeing him so motivated did nothing but make you more insecure about your own sudden ”laziness.” Living in an incredibly clean house only helps for so long until it starts feeling weird.

The only place safe from his worried frenzy was the bedroom, where you lay nearly all day. It was quiet there, at least. Not frustrating like everything else. That was until Arthur interrupted your silence by joining you in bed with a huff.

“Love, you've been in here all day.”

You didn't respond, simply nodding and rolling to face away from him.

“What's wrong?”

Still, no response.

He grabbed your shoulder lightly, trying to pull you to face him.

“What is it?”

“You know what's wrong.”

He sighed, before laying down as well. His arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you closer to him, his soft breath hitting the back of your neck as his heart beat against your back.

“I guess a better question would be... do you want to talk about it?”

You pause, ”Not really...“

”Well, I'll be here with you until you do.“

”No running around?“

He chuckles, ”No, I'll stay here. After all, you're strong... I imagine this won't last forever, right Love?“

France

Francis is a sensitive person, but most importantly he's an emotionally intelligent one. He notices as soon as your depression begins to get bad again, and he always tries to do little things to help. But... he knows that you're the one who's had to live in your head for years. The only reason he would go out of his way to help is if you asked him to.

Which you usually don't. It never seems to stay unbearable long enough for you to justify asking him, even though he's made clear he's always willing to do anything for you.

But this time is different, it feels as if your thoughts can't stop, no matter what you do. Even as you rest in bed, you only get more and more tired, more angry and miserable. Francis noticed this... but he wouldn't want to do anything you didn't want him to.

At least, that's how he thinks usually. But now, seeing his beloved sobbing for the 15th day in a row, he decided he had to do something.

Early in the morning, before the sun had fully risen, you were awoken by Francis's smiling face.

”Time to get up!“

”No-“

You were swiftly cut off by him grabbing your arms and pulling you upwards.

”I've set out clothes for you. We're going somewhere.“

You shook your head, ”W-Where? I'm tired-“

”It's gonna be fun! I'll buy you coffee on the way, don't worry.“

So up you were, regardless of your protests.

An hour-long car drive later, and you understood why he was so enthusiastic about going here. Before you stood the most stunning valley you had ever seen, surrounded by perfectly green trees and water so blue you could've sworn it was fake. But the breeze flowing through your hair said otherwise.

“While we walk to the beach, you can tell me all about what's wrong, okay?” He locked his hand around yours.

Sure, it didn't solve everything. But... it was better than the bedroom.

China

Yao doesn't really... understand what depression is. When you tell him it's a “mental illness” all he understands is “illness.” So the moment things start getting worse for you, he's recommending all the things he learned to make sick people better.

If it gets to the point of being bedridden, he acts like you're gonna die. Which is obviously not very... comforting. So after many times of you telling him to leave you alone, he's gotten used to popping in every couple of hours with tea, but that's it.

After all, you're usually back to your normal self pretty quickly. But this time, he can tell something's off; and he's not about to let you wither away.

So, one morning, you're awoken to a delicious breakfast already in your lap and Yao sitting in front of you, looking like a kid on Christmas.

“Wh- Yao? Why did you...”

“You haven't been eating enough, and I don't want you getting tired soon.”

You looked at him suspiciously, “Why?”

“We have plans.“

”Good plans or bad plans?“

”Good plans! What do you think of me?“

Once you finished eating breakfast, he dragged you out of bed. No matter how much you protested, his grip on your hand was strong. He brought you to the other side of the house, into his already set-up studio.

”What are we doing in here?“ You ask nervously.

”Getting you out of bed,“ He responds quickly, gesturing to the yoga mat set up next to his.

All you could was sigh and stand next to him, waiting for instruction.

”Do we really have to do this?“

He nods, spreading his legs to the side and reaching down with one hand. Looking up at you expectantly, he smiled.

”It keeps you spry,“ He switched sides, ”It keeps you healthy.“

”I'm really not in the mood,“

”Trust me.“

With a huff, you slowly worked your creaking body into the same pose he pulled.

”I can't stand to see you suffer in that room.“

”It's not fun on my end either.“

”I love you. I wish you would tell me how to help.”

You groan as the next pose he demonstrated stretched you a little bit more than what was comfortable.

“You can't 'help.' Just gotta wait it out.“

He took a moment to respond, “Well, I suggest you wait it out in ways that get your mind off everything. Like this.”

“It's helping the tiniest bit, I guess...”

He chuckled, “We will keep working at it until you feel better. No matter how long it takes.”

Russia

When your depression gets bad, it seems to be obvious to everyone... except Ivan. Despite you bringing it up to him, he either doesn't know what to do... or he doesn't care. The possibility of the latter doing nothing to make you feel any better.

Even as you spend all day laying in bed, crying constantly, he doesn't seem to notice. He just acts like you aren't... suffering. That stings, a lot more than anything else creating this depressive episode.

But after a week of this unending gloominess, you get a strange text from Ivan.

“Come downstairs.”

Weird and annoying... but more importantly ominous. It takes you only a second to throw on a hoodie and rush downstairs. You can't hear his usual humming, and the house seems completely still as you search for him. But when you look out the back window, you see him.

As you enter the backyard, you fully see what he was doing.

In the middle of the yard, he set up a picnic. Surrounding him is a mountain of bright flowers, and tens of little plates bearing your favourite sweets lay on the light blanket.

“Come sit, darling.”

You would be foolish of you to not oblige. Once you sat down next to him, he reached out to stroke your cheek lovingly.

”What is torturing you so horribly?“

You took a deep breath, “Where to start?”

“Wherever you want,” he clucks his tongue sympathetically, resting his hand on your thigh.

“Y-You know... I thought you didn't care. You've been so... normal...”

Ivan looks awkward, averting his gaze, “I didn't want to make it worse. You're so strong, I knew you could get through it on your own. I'm sorry.”

“I can.... but I don't want to...”

He leans forward, kissing your forehead.

”I promise, now, you will never deal with anything alone.“

”You're sure it won't be too much?“

”Never. Never too much.“

hey there. its gonna get better. its gonna be different. but its gonna get better. there are hundreds of people youre gonna meet, and hundreds of places youre gonna go, and its gonna be amazing. one day youll wake up and realize everything is alright. because youre gonna be ok.

#heta tag #hetalia imagines #hetalia x reader #ivan tag <3 #aph russia x reader #hws russia x reader #arthur tag #aph england x reader #hws england x reader #alfred tag #aph america x reader #hws america x reader #yao tag #aph china x reader #hws china x reader #francis tag #aph france x reader #hws france x reader #not proofread at all

[bloodyselfshipping]

I love your Hetalia main eight headcanons, how would they be with an British s/o? Cuz I personally believe that with France and America would be funny ^____^

(Hetalia Main 8 x Reader) British S/O!

(Gender Neutral) Headcanons ~ A/N it isnt as funny as you probably expected (i cant help but be sappy) but i hope u like it <3 ALSO two requests already?!?!?! im loisng my mind over here keep em comin

This is also hysterical to him. Like, he’s always had so many issues with the British and now he’s in LOVE with a British person?! What reality is this?!

Because your native language is English like his, he’ll completely forget that the UK is not like the US.

“What do you mean you’ve never had Snickers salad?! Everyone has!”

“Hold on… what did you just say I need to get?... a “bog roll”? Wh- are you kidding me? You’re making that one up.”

Probably a little bitch about it not going to lie. He respects where you come from, but he’s probably gonna insist on things being more American than British.

Alfred has been to the UK many times, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t gonna be very whiney about it. Except when it comes to your family, who he LOVES. Seriously, he would be so great with your relatives.

Obviously, as a British person himself, this is not out of the ordinary at all. Most likely his S/O would be British, I can’t see him having much of a thing for foreigners anymore.

But he is very happy that he doesn’t have to simplify how he talks, god forbid learn another language.

He appreciates having a S/O that he doesn’t have to explain anything about his country to. He can go on living his life the same way (which is so frustratingly important to him) and you’ll have no problem.

It’s always comforting to him knowing his S/O lives in his country, it removes so much pressure off his shoulders.

Oh boy, oh lord, what is Arthur going to say! Having to put all of his constant British-specific insults aside because now his S/O is what he’s always hated!

“Those rostbif l'idiotes, they’re d- oh, my apologies. I- uh… that doesn’t include you, my love.”

He’s definitely gonna insist you learn French. He says it’s because he wants to distance you from Arthur, but really he just thinks your accent is so cute-

Francis knows a lot about British culture, so you probably won’t have to explain anything to him. But he’s definitely gonna try to immerse you in his own culture, no pressure of course.

It’s really a surprise to him how little your nationality bothers him. I guess love can always change a man’s heart <3

Depending on the time period, Yao’s reaction would vary. Nowadays, he doesn’t really care that much. But if it was any earlier, he would be so ashamed of himself!

He’d try to teach you Mandarin, but that wouldn’t last long. His version of Mandarin is a mess of like 50 dead dialects, and he would get real annoyed when you mess it up, sorry /:

Yao has had to deal with foreigners so much nowadays, he doesn’t care much to learn about your country or teach you about his. He’ll assume you already know about his culture.

He doesn’t like traveling, but he’ll always make an exception for you and your family <3 Just… be aware he’s gonna try to get you to move to China constantly.

Ivan would quite like this arrangement actually! He’s always had an admiration for the UK, plus now he has something to bother Arthur with-

He wouldn’t care much about the language thing (he might even try stopping you from learning Russian,) but if you make fun of his bad English he would take it so personally ):

He wants you to take him on tours around where you’ve lived in the UK!!! Tell him everything!!! No one usually wants him to visit their country, so he’s very excited to come home with you!

Fully embraces your multi-cultural little family unit!

Frankly, I don’t think Feliciano would have much of a reaction. Him and Arthur are not close, but he’s never had any real animosity for the country. He loves foreigners, where exactly you’re from doesn’t make much difference!

Loves speaking to you in Italian! He thinks your confused and flushed face is just the cutest.

As much as he likes hearing about your country, he is way more excited to show you the sights and sounds of his own.

Gives you a lot of homemade cultural foods but forgets you’re British and makes them way too … seasoned.

You may be from across the continent, but you’ll always be his persona amata.

Despite Ludwig’s general annoyance towards British politics, he actually quite likes that his S/O is British! He finds a lot to enjoy about the culture.

Will insist that you teach him about growing up in the UK. He just finds it fascinating!

German and English are relatively similar languages, so he’ll suggest you learn at least a little. But he’s not gonna push you on it, your accent is terrible anyway.

You guys probably live and eat very similarly, since Ludwig has adapted very quickly to globalization. Very convenient for you, very annoying for Gilbert.

Overall, this would be a great relationship. Ludwig would be very casual about you being British (cough cough, Alfred)

Generally, Kiku finds most Europeans quite annoying to deal with, but he’ll always make an exception for you <3

Considering how Arthur reacted to Japanese, he’s not even gonna try to get you to learn. He’ll teach you if you ask nicely, but only then.

He’s not very into teaching you about Japan, more casually explains cultural things as they come up.

He would love to go back to the UK with you! He’s very touristy, and would love if you are too.

Kiku is always willing to set aside any bias or personal history aside for you <3

#holy shit i hate tagging these so much #hetalia imagines #hetalia x reader #aph america x reader #hws america x reader #aph england x reader #hws england x reader #aph france x reader #hws france x reader #aph china x reader #hws china x reader #aph russia x reader #hws russia x reader #aph italy x reader #hws italy x reader #aph germany x reader #hws germany x reader #aph japan x reader #hws japan x reader

[504py]

ahh requests open !!! can i request yan!america headcanons or a short drabble ? your choice 🌼 thank you~

thank you for requesting anon!!! and so sorry for this being late omg this was supposed to come out earlier but i got sidetracked cuz i got sucked into stardew valley LMFAO 😭😭😭. but anyways, here it is!

Yandere America Relationship Headcanons

Gender neutral, manipulation, breaking and entering, stalking, long post ahead!

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

How the relationship started...

A total cliché, but Alfred would go for a damsel in distress. He met you on the stairs passing each other, you tripped, and he caught you in his arms in the nick of time. You quickly apologize and thank him with an embarrassed smile, and you continue on your way. Alfred tries to, but he can't seem to stop thinking about that flustered expression on your face, the sound of your voice, and the way you felt under your clothes...

He tries to shake the feeling off, but he just had to bump into you again.

Alfred's second encounter with you was when you two were at the counter at the convenience store, and you were a dollar short. Him, being the hero he is, leans over from behind you and puts a dollar down on the counter.

You look at him, recognizing him as the dude who prevented you from eating shit at that staircase. You blush at the embarrassing memory.

"Don't worry about it." Alfred smiles boyishly, noticing that same flustered expression. He relishes in the feeling of your warmth against his chest when he leans forward, and immediately misses it when he pulls away.

"Th.. Thanks."

You take your things and go, and Alfred is up next to pay for his things. His eyes linger on you as you exit.

Alfred can't wait for the next time you two have a chance encounter, so he catches up to you.

"Hey, dude!" He calls out, approaching you from behind. His heart races a little.

"Oh-" You are a little startled, he feels kinda bad. "What's up?"

"Cause of that dollar I gave you, I had to give up my potato chips!" Alfred cries.

He's lying. He's hoping to god they don't make a crinkle sound under his jacket.

"Oh, shoot, I'm sorry. Can.. Uh, can I pay you back some other day? I don't have any cash on me at the moment."

Alfred smiles. "I can give you my number, and we'll make out the details then?"

"Y-Yeah, of course."

His smile grows wider.

Expectations...

Because Alfred is just oh-so sociable and has such a friendly, extroverted disposition, it isn't very hard for him at all to quickly become one of your closest friends, and, one day, when you two were stuck in the rain after a late night fast-food dash gone wrong, he confesses his feelings for you. You accept, and he kisses you so hard your lips bled a bit from the impact. Of course, he apologized like crazy. You two look back at it now and laugh.

Alfred does his best to appear like a normal boyfriend. He is one who cares a lot about keeping up appearances, so he'd hate it if his weird tendencies slipped through and made itself apparent to you.

Yet another cliché, Alfred is one who yearns for the perfect American dream sort of image. Alfred really likes clichés, they're easy to predict and he can control them. He likes kissing in the rain, he likes calling you cheesy nicknames, and he wants to get married and have a kid and a pet dog with you. And he expects you to completely adhere to that fantasy of his.

Luckily for you, he won't get too violent if you're not the best at keeping up that appearance, since he has other methods of keeping you in line.

Punishments...

Since Alfred highly values appearing like a run-of-the-mill happy couple, he finds it essential that you don't suspect him at all or see him in any negative light.

So he takes to some really dirty manipulation tactics. He'd start with scolding you lightly and emphasizing every time you slip up or make a clumsy mistake.

"Oh-! Woah, babe, you almost tripped again. Thank God I caught you.. You really can't go anywhere without me."

"Did you mix up the laundry again? Damn, that's the third time this month."

He mixed up your laundry on purpose.

"Shoot! The food's burning... Ah, don't worry! I'll just order some takeout, it's alright, honey."

He totally left the burner on high while you went to the bathroom for a second.

Alfred just wants to plant a seed in your head that you're rather helpless, and need his assistance for many, if not all things. And assuming this works, you'll start clinging to him much more than you usually do.

He wants more, though. He wants you to fear the outside world so much that you have no choice but to stay in his house forever and see him as the one thing that could protect you.

He would very likely stage a break-in to get you to that point. During a moment where you're staying in your own home instead of his, he'll don a ski mask and clothing that would make him unrecognizable to you, and late at night, when you're getting comfortable, he breaks in.

Alfred doesn't mind destruction, and that's including towards other people. Like Matthew, violence would be a last resort to him, however, Alfred is much more unforgiving.

..He won't be pretty about breaking into your home. Glass will be everywhere, he'll set off alarms, and he won't be shy about getting caught on your home cameras.

Although destruction isn't his main intent, he just wants you to know someone was here. He'll move your furniture around, knock frames off of the walls, and take a few valuables, like jewelry. Nothing you should miss too much.

Then he sees you.

He never really intended for you to see him, but, now he was facing you, and to your eyes, you were face to face with a stranger who just broke into your home.

Alfred sees the panic and fear boil over in your eyes, and right before you run or scream or are able to do anything— He rushes forward and grabs you. His heart is racing

Instead of saying anything, in fear you recognize his voice, he raises a gloved finger to his lips, telling you to stay quiet.

You nod, and you're crying.

(Alfred hates to admit a part of him finds this exhilarating, but the way you're crying because of him makes him feel so horrible).

He nods his masked face at you, and goes to your bedroom to collect a few more valuables (your underwear).

As he's leaving your home, he turns his head to see you on your phone, and he panics, thinking you've dialed 911. He hurries up and runs off to a secluded area so he could take off the outer layer of clothes he was wearing.

As he takes off his jacket, the phone in his pocket rings.

And it's you.

He's frozen for a second, wondering why you were calling him. Did you know it was him? What did he do that set you off?

He picks up.

"Babe?" He cringes at how his voice shakes. "What's up?"

Then you're crying his name like it was a prayer, telling him what just happened and begging for him to come over and pick you up.

And his heart swells. You came to him first for protection? You trusted him the most with your safety?

He grins, and he can't help the way his smile could be heard in his voice when he tells you he'll be there as quickly as he can. He's so happy he's trembling. Luckily, you're still too shaken up to notice his strangely cheery tone of voice.

Then now you're clinging to him, much more than ever before, trusting him with your life, and the only thing you fear is being without him. Just like he wanted.

Rewards...

Alfred REALLY likes physical affection. He does show his love in many ways, but he's so physical that it may come off as creepy. He likes licking your face, biting lightly on your shoulder, and sniffing whatever he can, even if it's some embarrassing area... He's like a dog, really. He also likes taking you out on cheesy dates, like going to Disneyland or going to a haunted house, and taking lots of pictures to flaunt the two of you's oh-so-perfect relationship.

He has this habit of resting his hand around your neck and sorta rubbing it. I'm not sure if he'd be into asphyxiation, but he finds the action rather intimate. The throat is a vulnerable spot, and him having it in his hand so casually makes him feel good. He also has this other habit where he likes to sorta tickle your palm with his fingertips. When he hears your laugh when he does this, he gets an uncharacteristically demure expression on his face, and looks at you with hearts in his eyes.

Silence is his love language, I think.

He spends a lot of time being loud and untamed, and maybe it's a defense mechanism, who knows? So these little moments where he allows himself to be quiet, to be quiet around you, are his favorite ones.

He wakes up really early, at least earlier than you do. Maybe contrary to popular belief, I feel like Alfred is somewhat of a workaholic, so he naturally tries to get a head-start on the day.

He used to hate waking up so early, but with you, it's now his favorite part of the day. The only thing he hates is getting up to leave you for work. But he thinks it's all worth it, because it's all for you.

It's so quiet. And you're here. And no one else is around. It's just the two of you.

It feels like he's not real, during these early mornings. He knows you are, though. You're everything that's real to him. He reminds himself that this isn't a dream by touching and admiring your face while you slept. He can feel your soft breathing on his skin.

Alfred rests his forehead against yours, and he doesn't say this out loud, since he doesn't wanna wake you up, but it's also because.. He feels like you just get him. He believes you two are soulmates, and that you'll just feel whatever he's thinking, even while asleep.

"I love you." He says, in silence.

┊͙✧˖*°࿐

whew!! so sorry this got out so late, but here's the final request i'm doing for the 200 followers celebration! funnily, as i'm posting this, i've just hit 300 followers, so triple all my thank yous!! you guys are great! unfortunately, the requests got me feeling a bit burned out, so i'll probably do something different for this milestone.. i'm thinking i'll either do a "meet the artist", or do a whiteboardfox with you guys? i also have a whole bunch of ocs which were initially meant to be the main focus of my account, but not sure if that y'all would find that very interesting. please lmk what you think! thank you all again!!

#aph america #hws america #yandere america #hetalia america #yandere hetalia #yandere america x reader #yandere hetalia x reader #yandere x reader #alfred f jones #asks #🛁

[crimson-kisses]

Ok umm. Yandere god Canada, America, Russia, Austria, Germany, and France with a nature Goddess reader.

🤡💧anon ~

Technically, I have already done this ask in a way so this will only contain some drabbles!! Hope you liked it. Austria is a new one, tho!

Warning: Contains usual yandere themes, toxic relationships and the like.

Tangled vines

Canada || Matthew Williams 🇨🇦

Sitting atop a grassy hill, surrounded by vibrant blooming flowers, Matthew watches you with an admiring gaze. The calmness you give off brings a sense of peace to his soul, and he could spend hours simply observing your serene demeanor.

However, beneath your calm exterior, a storm rages within. Containing your seething fury, you make a decision not to show Matthew the extent of your anger. He had held you captive, subjecting you to his relentless beasts—creatures both mortal and immortal, magical and fierce.

His mighty wolves encircle you, seeking solace and warmth, as if yearning for a mother's touch. But you are far from their mother, yet you dare not push them away, lest you lose half of your body.

While your injuries may heal, the pain would prove burdensome, and that is the last thing you desire.

Matthew has succeeded in breaking your spirit through fear, ensuring your submission to his will. Meanwhile, delicate creatures flutter around you, drawn to the beauty of the blossoming flowers, as if inviting them into an embrace.

Sitting on the hill, you keenly sense Matthew's loving gaze upon you, his watchful eyes drinking in every detail of your presence.

"Your presence brings me a tranquility I haven't felt in eons,"

He murmurs, walking closer to where you sit, his hands clasped behind his back. He stalks towards you, paying no mind to the flowers crushed under his boots as he positions himself besides you. In his outstretched palm, a delicate butterfly finds solace.

His eyes, a shade of soothing lavender, gaze at you with a glint of delight. He reaches out, intertwining his fingers with yours, binding them tightly together. The fluttering creatures find respite around both of you, creating a delicate barrier.

You manage to suppress a shudder at his words, a bitter irony lingering in your mind. For he has brought you nothing but misfortune after misfortune. Trapped in this place, guarded by unfathomable creatures, you find yourself drained and wearied. His clinginess, has only soured over time, leaving you with a distaste that grows stronger with each passing moment.

At the very least, he hasn’t taken you far away from your domain.

America || Alfred F Jones 🇺🇸

The palace of the divine king stood in all its splendor, a spectacular sight of celestial marble adorned with magnificent statues. Pearls of various kinds adorned every corner, while golden rings encircled the ceilings, creating an ambiance fit for the heavens.

Yet, for you, it was a personal hell.

Alfred had positioned you on his lap, gripping you tightly as he attended to his duties and other matters, leaving you unable to attend to your own responsibilities. Your connection to your own domain felt distant, slipping through your fingers like sand.

There was no solace to be found within these walls.

But of course, Alfred was busy with showcasing you, parading you around, while purposely disregarding your legitimate concerns. It often felt as if he intentionally sought to provoke you, to ignite his wrath within you.

Perhaps that was exactly what he desired.

There is no piece or a leaf of your domain to be found near his castle, his territory, his domain, because his insufferable pride wouldn’t let that happen anytime soon. Instead, he to claim you as his, not as an another immortal being, but his wife, his woman, his lover. That’s the only identity you ought to have in his eyes.

Except for the garden, a sprawling expanse adorned with lush nature, you were forbidden to enter without his presence by your side. He would lead you beneath the thick foliage of the trees, that’s where he pleased you as he so wished, over and over again, until he was satisfied. The flowers bloomed with an ardent passion, glistening with dewdrops that adorned the garden like delicate jewels. It was a place solely dedicated to your pleasure, a sanctuary of sensory delights.

As if he was saying without telling, that even in this sanctuary you cannot have solace or peace without him by your side.

His hands were now inching towards your thighs, the dress slipping away smooth as milk as goosebumps raised on your skin, he stared at you with a lustful gaze, sitting between your naked thighs.

"It’s always a pleasure to be on my knees for you".

Russia || Ivan Brangisky 🇷🇺

He was more than aware that the frigidness of his domain did not suit you well and often clashed with the climate of your domain. Frost clung to your delicate skin, causing you to tremble ever so slightly in the face of the biting cold breeze.

He inhaled softly through his nose, a smile slowly spreading across his lips as he imagined you snugly wrapped in his coat, finding warmth and comfort within its embrace.

Sadly, you had politely refused.

Ivan set a steaming bowl of hot soup before you, urging you to partake as he settled into a seat across from you. His gaze, filled with intensity, roamed freely over your form, appreciating your beauty. You were indeed a stunning woman, a captivating sight that was truly a feast for the eyes.

He held a special fondness for the moments when you brought life and beauty to his desolate domain, watching nature bloom in all its loveliness and delight. It was a sight that touched his heart and filled him with a rare warmth, a feeling he rarely experienced within his own realm and in his life as a whole.

And it was precisely because of this profound connection that he felt compelled to carry out what he was about to do.

With deep violet eyes sparkling with delight and a hint of amusement, he watched as a vibrant cluster of sunflowers flourished around his house. Your cheerful laughter and radiant smile tugged at his heartstrings, bringing warmth to the depths of his being.

You were undeniably enchanting, blissfully unaware of the healing power you possessed. In your presence, the scars that tore at his heart and the wars that ravaged his immortal soul seemed to fade away.

It was you, and only you, who had the ability to mend the shattered pieces and bring solace to his troubled existence.

Austria || Roderick Edelstein 🇦🇹

Glowing bluebells sway delicately from fragile stems, emitting a soft, ethereal glow. As you run your fingers tenderly across their petals, a melodic serenade reminiscent of piano keys fills the air. With a sigh, you become aware that you are under the watchful scrutiny of keen plum-colored eyes.

You have long stopped caring about such things, focusing on the peaceful arrangements of nature around you, swaying with their own set of tunes which was such a joy to hear.

Emerging from his hiding place, Roderick would reprimand you about the seemingly chaotic music that resonates in the surroundings. Swiftly taking control of the situation, and in response to his commands, the flowers obediently bloom and unfurl themselves once more. The melodies that fill the air follow his guidance, harmonizing in a more orderly manner.

At the very least, you would be near your domain and Roderick, as much as judgmental he is about some things, whether it be how your too much of a carefree woman or being agitated by your chaotic domain, he had no qualms about separating you from your home.

You supposed you will take what you get, as he exclaims that it is now time for dinner and grabs you inside his mansion by gently placing a hand on your waist and demanding you to clean yourself up.

It wasn’t all that bad, you supposed with an exasperated look directed towards him and go ahead, to wash yourself up for dinner.

Germany || Ludwig Beilschmidt 🇩🇪

You swim around the extravagantly colorful reefs with a burst of speed as dozen fishes follow your trail. Playfully, you swirl around and watch as they circle around you, filling your heart with warmth unlike the cold water which was your home.

Your tail, looked like a part of the nature itself, scales glistening with shades of green, mimicking hues of lush moss that clung to ancient stones, delicate tendrils of seaweed and aquatic flora intertwined with the moss-like scales.

It shimmered vibrantly in the ocean, as you glided through the vibrant reefs, leaving a trail of luminous pearls in their wake, so you could be easily tracked by the Deity of the twelve Oceans.

You feel the sudden change of current in the ocean, as he swims near you skillfully, his powerful tail a deep shade of forest green, with a golden hue.

The water lilies swim above you, blooming in your presence as they gently make way for the sunlight to fall upon you both. Following your and Ludwig's command with perfect harmony.

"You have been wandering quite a lot, I can’t help but be worried about you. I suppose the pearls were a good idea after all".

Solemnly you nod, as the former giddiness you shared with the fishes fades away into an empty space in your chest. Ludwig takes your hand and together you both take a dive, deeper into the ocean.

The pearls would make a fine jewelry for a more fortunate woman someday, you think, as Ludwig can’t help but collect few in with his hands.

France || Francis Bonnefoy 🇫🇷

A necklace adorned with a delicate array of ethereal feathers, gracefully embraced your neck. In the mirror's reflection, you could see the reflection of Francis, dreamy expression adorning his face, captivated by your appearance.

You swiftly avert your gaze from his, he gently takes a hold of your hand, pressing a series of tender kisses upon the top of your knuckles, his affectionate gestures ascending to graze your neck.

You don’t bother saying anything, not that he would listen to what do you have to say. Staying still, as he presses kisses across your collarbone, his hands inching towards the sides of your bosom.

In your divine beauty, you stood as a celestial masterpiece, crafted from stardust that cascaded across the vast expanse of the universe. With a single glance, you effortlessly ensnared his heart, drawing him into a realm of enchantment from which he could never escape. Your allure was irresistible and mesmerizing, leaving him forever spellbound by your radiant presence.

His adoration for you knew no bounds. He was madly in love with every curves of your body, his hands tenderly skimmed through the strands of your hair, cherishing each delicate strand. A shudder comes through you as he pushes your dress down, and then presses a passionate kiss on your lips, hands grabbing whatever they could find.

You were the nature's most precious treasure, indeed.

#qeued post #hetalia #aph hetalia #yandere #yandere hetalia #hetalia canada #hetalia america #hetalia russia #hetalia austria #hetalia germany #hetalia france #yandere x reader #male yandere x reader #yandere imagines #aph america #aph russia #aph france #hws #hetalia america x reader #hetalia x reader

[opticfile]

hi there! i absolutely adore your writing it's so scrumptious !!!!!!!

i was wondering if i could request an alfred x depressed! gn! reader drabble? where reader has just been stuck in a major depressive episode for weeks and yeah, you can take it wherever you'd like. thank you so much! :))

✧ thank you?? for the req?? this is the first one I've gotten and its not for genshin YIPPEEEEE,,,,, also warning my only point of reference for a depressive episode is my own experience so I'm sorry if this doesn't represent what its like completely accurately!! i also didnt want to like be too heavy in "you're so sad rn!!1!!!1! and depressed!!!!1!!111!!!!" so i tried to make it like,,, moreso implied? I'm doing my best here D: also had no clue how to end it LMAO

—✦ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 // insinuations of depression, self loathing, fluff, bathtime teehee, completely sfw

1.7k words

Alfred wiped his feet on the welcome mat in front of your apartment’s door. He transferred a few of the grocery bags from his right hand to his left and fished his keys out of his coat’s pocket, humming gently to himself. The air was humid and chilly; he just wanted to see you but when he walked into your home he did not find the warmth he usually found.

Your apartment was like a warm hug to Alfred. On cool fall days, you’d have a space heater on low in your living room and a candle burning in the kitchen. He would walk in and take a deep deep breath and smile. Your couch was plush and there were countless pillows adorning your bed and no matter where he was sitting he felt encompassed by warmth.  He found comfort in your home, and in your arms.

But today, he did not hear your voice call out for him when his boots hit your crooked rug.

The first thing his eyes found was days-old take-out boxes on your coffee table. He frowned, browline creasing as he suddenly felt this unease in his soul. It wasn’t like you to leave take-out boxes just sitting on your coffee table, especially not for days at a time, and the slight smell of old, possibly rotting, food was only deepening his frown. 

He ventured deeper into your kitchen and was met with dishes piled in the sink and grains of sugar still lingering on your countertops. The kitchen towel that was usually hooked over your oven’s handle had fallen to the mat below it and was piled upon itself. He gently placed the grocery bags in his hand on your floor, turning from the sheer mess in your kitchen to find you. He just wants to see you, he just wants to see you, he just wants to see-

You were curled up in your blankets dead-center on your bed. There were pillows discarded on the floor and clothes sprawled out across it. The corners of your room were collecting dust bunnies that looked as if they were huddling for warmth and shivering in the cold atmosphere of your home. Your phone was held loosely in your hand as your chest rose and fell.

Alfred turned on his heel.

Alfred was always told he knew how to lift someone's mood. He’s been called a golden retriever, a ray of sunshine, cheer incarnate. He’s always been able to make people laugh with any old joke he threw out, and he’s always been able to have a good time no matter what obstacles stood before him. Some people thought his joy and optimism were extreme, too much, annoying, obnoxious. Alfred has always been sunny, but even the weather got cloudy for him, sometimes. 

(and for you it was storming, and he wanted to be your umbrella)

But he was always told he could make anyone smile, and for you? He would give everything to see you smile.

So he grabbed your sponge and pumped it full of dish soap and got to work.

Your eyes were reluctant to open. 

Rain pounded against your bedroom window, your phone buzzed with the sound of a random YouTube video you weren't watching as you removed your hand from it and turned over in your bed. Your legs were tangled in the sheets—the ones you probably should wash soon—and the air was musty. If it weren't for the obvious shuffling you heard in the rest of your apartment you would stay like that and wallow in self-pity.

Your feet hit the cold hardwood and you made a mental note to find your slippers after you figured out who was in your home (you already had an idea of who it was judging from the light humming). You felt the grime and dust beneath your skin and you frowned. You really needed to sweep.

Your door opened with a creek.

You hated seeing the disgusting state of your home, you were ashamed of it frankly. You needed to clean and yet had none of the motivation to do it so you just sat in your dirt and grit your teeth. The smell in the air was heavy and stuffy and only reflected how you felt inside. You had been getting nothing done, no work, no chores, not even your little hobbies you did for fun were bringing the joy they usually did. 

But by far the place you avoided the most was the kitchen. The kitchen was nothing but one big chore. Dishes piled up and stains on your counter and spills down your cabinets were the only things you could see in that disgrace of a room. You didn’t even want to cook, it's not like you even could with the messy state of your stove, either. So the takeout boxes on your coffee table (which were now missing) stood as evidence of your laziness and poor habits and frankly you were sick of yourself can you do anything right-

“Y/n?” An all too familiar voice called out from the kitchen, “Are you awake?”

“Yeah,” You responded, voice groggy and mouth thick.

You rounded the corner to see Alfred drying his hands off with a fresh kitchen towel. Your kitchen was… spotless. Alfred flashed you that bright grin of his, pearly whites lined up perfectly straight, and you let yourself relax a bit as you waddled over to your lover.

You found comfort in Alfred’s smile, in his arms. In that sunny warmth of his that he always carried with him. It felt like the skies were clearing up when he wrapped himself around and nuzzled into your hair, kissing the top of your head and ignoring the fact your hair was a bit greasy and unwashed. Alfred didn't care. That’s why you loved him. Er, that’s not the only reason, but it sure did help that he could hold your hand as you puked your guts out from food poisoning and he would still kiss you after. 

“Hi.” You murmured into his chest as his arms tightened around you.

“Hey, baby,” He laid another kiss on your head, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” 

“Feelin’ ok? A little stormy?” He ran his nails along your scalp and scratched a metaphorical spot that no one else could even find in your soul as you nodded into his chest. “D’ya wanna take a bath?”

“Mhm.” You spoke weakly, eyes filling with tears at the sheer amount of care in his voice as he rubbed your back.

“Hey, look at me,” Alfred pulled back gently, hand now finding your cheek, “No crying, the hero’s here, remember? I’ll save you.”

You frowned. The hero. Alfred always was your knight in shining armor no matter what the issue was. When you got fired Alfred was the one to buy your groceries and pay your bills and help you with your resume. When you got food poisoning from a seafood restaurant he took you on a date to he was the one to buy you medicine and rub your bad when your stomach was killing you from the inside out. And now he’s the one who’s squeezing shampoo into his palms and rubbing it on your scalp while you choke on your own sobs.

He raked his hands through your hair and rubbed circles into your head and down your neck to try and soothe you as you fell apart in his hands and let everything out. It was the kind of breakdown that was snotty and ugly but Alfred still saw nothing but perfection in every part of your face. From the tear droplets caught in your eyelashes to the curve of your nose to the shape of your chin, he saw nothing but the love of his life.

He took the showerhead down and returned to his knees by the tub, water soaking through his jeans and socks as he kneeled next to you to wash your hair. He had you sit up a bit and put his hand on your forehead to shield your eyes from the water as he rinsed the shampoo from your hair and whispered nothing but love. Hiccups bubbled from your ribcage as you came down from the peak of your crying and let your nails scratch your legs, peeling dead skin away in red stripes.

“Feel better?” Alfred slathered some conditioner on your hair. 

“Mhm.” 

“Why didn’t you call me?” He raked his hands through your hair gently, “I would’ve come over sooner.”

“I wanted to, I just forgot.” You frowned, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, I love you.” Alfred took the shower head and started rinsing out your hair again.

“I love you too, Alfie.”

He grinned at the nickname, heart fluttering against his ribs.

He stood from his place by the tub and stretched out a hand to help you out of the bath, handing you a fresh towel. He took one of your hand towels and draped it over your head, smiling brightly at you as you wrapped the towel around yourself and pulled you into his arms. Your skin was still damp and the air was hot and foggy as he wet his t-shirt with the water dripping from your hair.

The door opened and in flooded crisp, cool air as the steam fluttered out of the bathroom and the smell of a burning candle invaded your senses. 

You rummaged through your dresser and found a t-shirt and pajama pants, pulling them on before making your way into the living room to see Alfred fiddling with your T.V. remote.

“What’d’ya wanna watch?”

“Something funny,” You responded, plopping yourself down onto your couch and laying back on it. 

“Sounds good to me,” Alfred murmured as he crawled into your arms, sprawling himself over you as gently as possible so he wouldn't smother you.

“Do you wanna order takeout?” You ran your hands through his hair as your attention was grabbed by the T.V.

“Sure.” He nuzzled into your neck and finally relaxed in your arms, “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

✧ navigation.

#opticfile ✧༺࿐ #opticreq ✧༺࿐ #aph hetalia #hetalia world series #hetalia axis powers #hws #hetalia #hetalia world stars #hetalia x reader #aph america #aph america x reader #hws america #hws america x reader #hws hetalia #hws x reader #aph x reader #how many fuckign hetalia tags can i fit challenge #hetalia imagines

[lilac-amethyst-skies]

Being in a relationship with America would include...

Playing Just Dance (amongst many other video games!)

Watching horror movies

You comforting Alfred after said horror movies…

Cuddling with warm blankets wrapped around the two of you

You trying on his glasses,

Him attempting to not die of pure adoration when you do

Him cracking jokes

Huge laughing fits

You being introduced to Tony and their crazy antics

You becoming close friends with his brother Matthew.

Alfred totally not ‘reading the room’ and you having to steer him on track before everything goes to chaos

Late night fast food runs

And late night conversations where you find out that Alfred is actually a really good listener

Those movie marathons with blankets, pillow forts and way too much food

You gently removing his glasses after he’s fallen asleep

Alfred sleep-talking and you having fun little conversations that he surely won’t be able to recall in the morning

Him taking you sight-seeing around the places he loves the most

Alfred picking you up out of nowhere and spinning you around

You wearing his sweatshirts

Alfred pulling you so, so close after a long day of meetings

Him being so thankful that he can finally just be himself without having to worry

Alfred pulling you into his lap

Passionate eye contact during sex

Alfred making you feel like the most important person in the world

Him falling more and more in love with you every single day

#hetalia #aph hetalia #hws hetalia #aph america #hws america #alfred f. jones #fanfiction #headcanon #hetalia x reader