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About Literature / Hobbyist Member AlexandraFemale/Australia Recent Activity
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Alexandra
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
Australia
Heeeeeeey~

I'm Alex, your friendly neighbourhood caffeine addict, night owl and anime fanatic. I'm a 5 foot 6 female, and I'm eighteen years old. I'm easily annoyed, enjoy being alone, and I don't like crowded parties. I speak English as my first (and regrettably, only) language, and for years I've been interested in learning others, but unfortunately haven't had the means to do so.

I'm a hobby writer, as you can see. I write fanfictions, and perhaps every now and then I'll write something of my own. One day, I would like to become a professional author, but for the moment....
This will be great. :3

I post every now and then; these are not frequent posts. I do this for my own leisure, and hopefully for the pleasure of anyone who cares to actually read what I write. :)

SEND ME A NOTE FOR SEPARATE ONESHOT REQUESTS. I DO TAKE THOSE. IF I HAVE A SERIES YOU WANT ME TO WRITE AN xREADER FOR, COMMENT BENEATH THE INTRO, OR BELOW THE JOURNAL POST I HAVE REGARDING IT. THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME AND ACKNOWLEDGEMENT, ALL YOU LOVELY PEOPLE ARE APPRECIATED.

I also have a Wix account. This is where I will update on the actual writing of my own that I will be doing. Check that out too! The link is below.

Keep being awesome, guys.
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… North Italy~! Your darling Feliciano Vargas.

You were just madly in love with that sweetheart. It was as simple as that. And, you were not afraid to admit. He was bright, bubbly, and kind and gentle. Excitable, yes, and sometimes as thick as a brick depending on the situation, but you couldn’t hold it against him. He was too cute, and you could never stop smiling when you were around him.

You’d met him by chance in World War II, when you’d joined the Allies. They’d captured Italy at the time, and he’d been crying in the corner as France and England poked and slapped him repeatedly. You’d not much appreciated the treatment you received as being part of the Allies, as according to them, a woman wasn’t fit for war. Mostly just fit for them to play around with and baby as if she were nothing more than a helpless damsel in distress, which you certainly were not (and they eventually learned it, too, and because of your long-standing friendship with America, he was the unexpected first to defend your pride as someone strong and capable).

So, when they placed you in charge of watching Italy, you got talking with him. Well, he got talking to you. Mostly it was flirting and fawning over how beautiful you were, and he would do it very loudly. But as time wore on, you got to know him better, and you could talk to each other. Eventually you felt sorry for Italy, so, you let him go. Of course, you made it appear that he’d escaped somehow, while you were on your scheduled break. You stayed with the Allies, as you didn’t believe in the cause the Axis was fighting for, but you and Italy remained friends. You became friends with the Axis in general, really. They were good people at heart. But really, how could someone be truly bad, if they were loved so much by little Feliciano?

You’d also come to learn that Feli, while perhaps a lot of the time more prone to running away than standing and fighting, didn’t really like living known as someone who was cowardly, and being known as hardly anything but that made him insecure. He also wasn’t as much of a clueless idiot as other people thought he was. And what you loved most about him, was that he had always been there for you from the worst to the best moments you’d ever had.

Your phone ringing rudely ripped you from your happy memories, and you scowled till you saw the contact; Ludwig Beilschmidt, on video call. That just made you frown. Germany never called you unless it was for something very important, and you’d never been video called before by him, so you picked up, to be met with the rather distressed looking faces of Ludwig and Kiku.

“_______-san! There’s something wrong with Feli!” Kiku seemed to be looking at something you couldn’t see yet.

You frowned. “What? What’s the matter?”

“Feliciano is… Behaving more oddly than he ought to be,” He looked like he was trying to find the right words to say, which troubled you further. “He’s dancing around the kitchen, and singing.”

“But he does that when he’s cooking pasta. You know that,” You tilted your head to the side. “Why the hell are you video calling me?”

“Well, we figured it would be best if you saw it for yourself,” Kiku looked hesitant, and the screen flipped from their faces, to the visual of Feliciano dancing around the kitchen with a cat. He wasn’t cooking pasta. He was just dancing, and he was singing very loudly.

~When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie
That’s amore!
When the world seems to shine like you’ve had too much wine
That’s amore!~


Feliciano kept singing on and on, over and over again, dancing with the rather dizzy-looking cat, and his curl was bouncing around in the shape of a heart.

You felt a stringing sensation in your chest as you watched the scene, but beat it back to get a hold of yourself. “Okay, that’s a bit strange, but is there any cause of alarm?”

The screen flipped back to your favourite German’s face. “There is a cause for alarm when he’s not even uttered the word ‘pasta’ all day, or even reacted when we suggested that we have it for lunch.”

“THEN WHY DID YOU CALL ME INSTEAD OF TAKING HIM TO THE HOSPITAL?”

“________-san, please don’t yell!” Japan was starting to look like he was having a panic attack. “He’s not sick, Ludwig checked! Feli always listens to you, so could you please come here and find out what’s wrong with him?”

“Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine!” You groaned and turned your phone off. Of course, your heart was actually doing backflips inside your chest, but you couldn’t really shake off the horrible thought that the reason Feliciano was acting like he was, was because he actually was in love with someone. There was such a thing as being too happy about certain things.

You hurried your way to Ludwig’s house, and didn’t even have to knock on the door before your wrist was grabbed and you were dragged inside, and the door slammed shut behind you.

“H-Hey! Come on! Give me a break!” You protested as the buff blonde dragged you down the hall. It must’ve been serious; he wasn’t even yelling at you for leaving scuff marks on the perfectly polished floors with your shoes.

“No time. Get in there,” Germany pushed you into the kitchen forcefully. You barely even got to catch a glimpse of Kiku before the door slammed shut.

~When the stars make you drool just like a pasta fazool
That’s amore!
When you dance down the street with a cloud at your feet
You’re in love~!~


Feliciano sang happily and kept dancing around you in circles. You were pleased to see he’d put down the poor cat he’d been holding before, but from the limp-looking fuzzy thing in the corner of the room, you could tell the cat was less than well after being spun around and around again.

“Feli?” You spoke quietly, in the hope that he’d actually hear you or at least greet you. But to your surprise, he came to an immediate halt right in front of you, and his eyes peeled open. And he looked… Serious.

“Do you know why I’m singing, ________?” He asked seriously.

Finally collecting your thoughts again, you could only stutter out your reply. “E-E-Erm… No?”

“It’s because I’m in love.”

You felt like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over your head. “Oh,” You choked out.

“And she’s so beautiful. She’s so smart, and funny, and bright, and she always cooks for me, and she never hits me when I go to sleep,” Italy’s face began to soften, and a whole new soft, warm smile bloomed on his features, a smile you’d never seen before.

“Oh,” You repeated lamely.

“And do you know who she is?”

“No…”

Italy suddenly grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the kitchen and upstairs like a ragdoll. “Then let me show you what she looks like! I have a picture of us together!” He sounded so bubbly and happy, that you supposed that he didn’t really comprehend that he was breaking your heart into a million pieces, and then breaking those pieces over and over again.

When he pulled you into his room, you didn’t even lift your head to look at the picture wall he’d accumulated over the years. You didn’t want to see this mystery girl’s face.

“See! Look, look, look! Isn’t she so pretty?!”

“Yeah… Nice…”

“You’re not even looking! Looooook!”

“I did look. She looks nice.”

“No,” Feliciano’s voice changed abruptly. It almost seemed angry. You felt his hands clasp your head and jerk it up with surprising strength to look straight on at eyelevel with a picture that made your heart stop.

Inside the picture, was a picture of your birthday two years ago, when you’d had a food fight in your backyard. Feli was on the right, covered in red jelly, and to his right was a smiling girl, with stained clothes, and an upturned plate of spaghetti on her head.

You.

You stared at the picture in bewilderment, blinking dumbly and making unintelligible noises as you tried desperately to grasp at your words.

“It’s you, _______.”

When you finally ripped your frozen gaze from the picture, you noticed how Feli was smiling like that again. So warmly, softly… Lovingly.

“You know, you’re the only one who never looked down at me at first,” He plucked a rose from the bouquet of flowers he kept decoratively by the window. “Even when we were at war, you were kind to me. You never beat me up or called me a coward, and you never left my side whenever I was upset… You even came over when I was having that nightmare that England was chasing me and you stayed with me till I fell asleep!” Feli grinned happily and put the rose behind your ear, his hand lingering on your hair.

“I was always a coward, so… I wanted to tell you that I love you, to at least prove to you that I’m not!” Feli smiled brightly, but something in his eyes told you that he was anything but confident in himself. He’d obviously been trying very hard to show you he wasn’t a coward.

You shook your head slowly and stroked his hair. “You have nothing to prove to me, Feliciano Vargas. Because you’re alright just the way you are.”

“B-But I’m such a wimp… And I’m weak…” Feli’s brave face melted away, and he began looking sad. You let out a long sigh and pulled him close to you, and embraced him in a tight hug.

“It never mattered to me, Feli, whether or not you were a big country that was strong and brave, or not at all. You’ve just always been my sweet little Italian. You’ve always been my best friend, and I’ve never once been afraid to admit that I loved you, for all you were worth,” You thought that he might be relieved, but instead, you were met with loud wailing.

“Wh-What?! Why are you crying, Feli?! Did I say something wrong?! Please don’t cry!”

“No, no, I-I’m just so happy!” You let out a yelp when the small Italian pushed you over and rubbed his face against yours like an excited cat. “I love you, I love you, ti amo, amore mia!”

You smiled ever so slightly, and ran a hand through his hair. “Anch’io, ti amo.”

“Yay~!” Feli cried, before leaping up and running out of the room. “LUDWIG, KIKU! IT WORKED! THE PLAN WORKED!” You blinked at the loud commotion, and when you pulled yourself up and poked your head out of the doorway, you were met with the visual of the German swinging poor Feli around, and Kiku trying in vain to quell the argument.

“You idiot! You just blew the whole plan!” Ludwig yelled at him. “_________ was not meant to know that we planned it! Stupid!”

Feli waved his arms, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. “WAAA, _________, SAVE ME! LUDWIG’S SCARY! SAVE ME, SAVE ME!”

You shook your head with a small smile. Perhaps some things wouldn’t change, but that was okay. In fact, it was perfect. Even if you had to rescue that little Italian a thousand more times, you wouldn’t change it for anything.

And Feliciano, despite how much he hated the idea of being known as helpless, perhaps didn’t mind being rescued if he got to be held in your arms again.
Hetalia x Reader: ... I Visit North Italy!
FINALLY. OH MY GOD.
This was an effort and a half to write.
It's been way too long since I last submitted something, especially one of these.
This is a part of a series, and if you haven't read the introduction, you can find it here: Hetalia x Reader Intro: When I Feel Awesome...

Disclaimers:
I don't own Hetalia.
I down own the picture.
I don't own you.
I just own the plot.

Keep being awesome, guys.
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The simplest, and saddest fact that Ludwig Beilschmidt ever learned, was not that humans had such a short time on the face of the earth, but that as a country, he had to watch their lives ebb away like a melting candle, while he remained an everlasting flame. He was old; and while he looked young, the more he looked upon his ageless features in the mirror, the more he felt his age, no matter how physically healthy or youthful he was. He felt it; he felt himself tire of the world he’d watch evolve over time, the world he helped shape. He felt with every fibre of his sinuous body the pain that he inflicted, and the agony he had to endure, as he watched the lives of the humans slip away day by day.

As a man with no definitive lifespan, he found the world around him become grey, dull, and listless, no matter how much he tried to find activities to bring back meaning to his strict lifestyle. But there was nothing new, nothing exciting; he’d seen it all. Life had lost a lot of the beauty it had once held. But, perhaps that was why he’d been drawn to ________ as much as he had been.

________ _________ was the type of girl the representation of Germany felt as if had never been on this earth before, and never would again. She wasn’t stupid, but she wasn’t Albert Einstein. She had her virtues, vices, faults and in his eyes, perfections. She was kind and she was patient, she was gentle, and she was wise. She sometimes ate too much, sometimes her pride got the better of her, and despite her patience, she could become frighteningly angry if pushed too far. She didn’t love herself, but she didn’t hate herself. She knew what her downfalls were, but she knew her assets. But, to Ludwig, she was as perfect as perfect could be; because ________ was real.

She’d broken into his colourless world spectacularly, but all she’d done was step through his office door. Her bright smile was accompanied with a firm handshake and a warm greeting that sent Ludwig’s mind reeling. It was also the day that Ludwig began not to scoff at the idea of love at first sight; because he knew that’s exactly what had happened. However, within the next ten seconds, he would become all too aware of the earth-shattering disappointment to find that ________ was in fact his older brother’s girlfriend.

But Ludwig fancied that he’d always known that the relationship between ________ and Gilbert would end; Gilbert loved women, but that didn’t mean he was unfaithful. In fact, the relationship ended simply because it didn’t work, and after the breakup ________ and Gilbert had retained a good friendship. But it was due to the type of men that _______ appeared to prefer, Ludwig wasn’t going to approach her romantically at all. She liked men who were open, always smiling, publicly affectionate and so obviously charming that it was practically tattooed to their foreheads.

It still baffled Ludwig as to why ________ had approached him at all. She’d just asked him out on a date one day, and though he would’ve normally refused, he heard himself accept the offer before his brain had even registered properly what it was she’d actually asked.

He often smiled to himself at the memories he’d shared with ________. One was his shaky proposal in which he almost lost the wedding ring down a storm drain after proposing to her in the street after a date, and when she finally accepted after getting a grip on herself again after laughing so hard she was in tears. Another one was the eventful wedding in which both he and _______ had asked Gilbert to be both Best Man, and a bridesman. Instead of choosing one or the other, Gilbert had chosen to do both, and preceded you down aisle with your other bridesmaids, then stood beside Ludwig and give a speech as Best Man; but all the while, wearing a bridesmaid’s dress.

The, the day he’d burst through the doors of the hospital after driving like a madman from his meeting proved to give him yet another splash of colour to his life, with the birth of his two children; a boy and a girl, joint personifications of the city of Berlin. That was one of the few days he’d ever shed tears, let alone tears of pure joy. Even just the memory of the happiness he felt still caused tears to burn the corners of his eyes.

Years passed by, the seasons changing, and ________ aged every day, the gap in their physical appearance broadening by the second, but he never aged, and his children had all but stopped aging altogether after they passed twenty. It was with every passing moment Ludwig had become more aware of how much closer to the end of her life she was. And at the old age of ninety-one, ________ just didn’t wake up.

It had been ten years since that day, and as always, Ludwig stood before _______’s white marble grave, with his brother Gilbert to his left, and his two children to his right, and they all looked the same as they had the day she’d passed. Ludwig had never stopped loving her, and never would. She’d always be his one and only, because there never would be someone else like her. No one could fill the void left behind inside Ludwig’s heart, but he never wanted anyone to, because that was the place only open for his beloved.

It was the simplest and saddest fact that Ludwig never wanted to learn; that his life would pass like this, revisiting the grave over and over of the human woman he’d married. But at the same time, he would’ve preferred to feel the pain of having to lose ________ after being blessed with the unimaginable happiness she’d given him, than to have faced decades of loneliness without ever knowing her.

Even in that moment as he turned and took a step away from the resting place of the other half of his heart, Ludwig was happy, because through rain, shine, Hell and high water, he knew she was there, walking beside him with a smile on her face, like she always did, as the sunlight broke through the clouds, lighting up the brightly-painted world that she had given him.
Germany x Reader Oneshot: Colourless
Germany, Germany, Germany.
I feel like Germany needs a hug. A lot of hugs. In general.
I don't really have much of an explanation for this. I just wanted to. I also wanted to hug Germany.

Keep being awesome, guys.
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Another day, and another conference meeting with the rest of the world. Yet again, you found yourself watching the rain fall down the windowpane behind your seat, the darkening clouds swirling and rumbling their laughter at your confinement to the chaotic boardroom.

But you could almost laugh right back at it if you felt like it. While sometimes the repetitive cycle of arguments, insults and furniture whizzing by your head could cause irritation, it wasn’t all that bad. It gave you time to reflect on your friends, enemies and allies, without them noticing you staring at them momentarily, before guiding your line of sight elsewhere.

You often wondered about each individual country, but not their histories. What you wanted to know truly, was who they were, not as countries, but as people. After all, they were the ones who had the literal job of carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders, walking day by day through their lives thinking about the next step towards a goal they couldn’t pinpoint. But to see them as countries, and only that, seemed pretty one-dimensional in your mind. You knew they, and you yourself were the personifications of every nation upon the face of the earth, and you had feelings. So did they.

One good example you liked to think about was France, and his conduct towards other people. France was a lover of a great many things, and a great many people; sometimes the way he came onto you was a bit strong for your liking, but telling him politely that his advances were just that, always resulted in a sincere apology, and a rose as a peace offering. France wasn’t a disgusting sleaze; quite the contrary, he was a loyal friend, and he had a great sense of humour. He was just misunderstood.

So was Russia, who forever sat pleasantly amongst the bombardment of pens and chairs. The grin he carried wasn’t so much as smile, as it was a customary mask to cover any emotional weakness that could possibly show on the man’s face. People always said never to judge books by their covers; but they still shied away from the physically imposing man. You’d found Russia to be closer to a teddy bear than a grisly bear; he just needed some patience, and a friend.

Even Germany, the commander of the boardroom and the serious, business-minded man was not like that really. He had a rather awkward personality, in your opinion, because focussing on his strong business attitude often left him for want of practice in expressing his true feelings. He just needed patience, and to be steered into a topic of conversation he could engage in, and the icy mask melted into a dazzling smile.

As your gaze glided across each country, male and female, picking out what everyone saw, to who you felt they really were, you came to realise how horribly unrealistic each and every outward impression had been, and yet were accepted as their true selves by others without second thought. Did everyone really think that Romano was just that angry for no reason? For all they knew, he could’ve been hiding the fact he felt inferior to North Italy, who had always been placed on a pedestal over himself. Was America truly that oblivious to everything, or that idiotic? No, it wasn’t possible. After all, he was a big dreamer, that no one could deny, but he could think realistically, and he did have feelings too. He could hear just as well as anyone else in the room the harsh things whispered into another’s ears.

The separation, uniting, appearing and disappearing of nations as time went by had changed and shaped the world, physically, and emotionally. After all, Prussia couldn’t possibly be that self-absorbed; if he hadn’t had the ability to think of anything outside the surface layer of his skin, he wouldn’t have ever been able to succeed as a country in general. None ever could’ve.

You smiled and shook your head, and stood up, and gradually made your way through the crowd. On your way past, you paused to sit your hand on Canada’s head, to which he gave you a startled look, realising you had done it on purpose. You gave the shy, ignored nation a reassuring smile, and ruffled his hair gently to assure him it would work out, before you continued your way across the room to the door, and buttoned up your coat, ready to brave the harsh weather outside.

Your shoes clicked as you took the cold grey path to your hotel room, and you still couldn’t help but wonder about the people that surrounded you. Every country had their own story to tell, and their own feelings hidden below the surface. You would never know what those were by simply looking at them; but you would gladly be the ear they needed to listen when they needed it.

But you never did notice the many pairs of eyes watching you from the windows as you disappeared around the street corner. The moment you had left the room, the fighting had ceased, and the room was tidied. It was an act they put on for the public eye and newcomers; but, the world knew that the act was not needed, when those (e/c) examined each of them so carefully, but never with unkindness, contempt or repulsion; gentle eyes, eyes that understood what it meant to be one of them.

To finally have someone who understood them, even when no words had to be said, to be accepted for who they were, not who they had been - that, more than anything, was the God-given gift they had been waiting for.
Hetalia x Reader Oneshot: God-Given Gift
I've been thinking a lot. And I mean a lot. We've been doing renovations at home and I'm now living in this flat/unit/bungalow thing in the backyard. And I have no internet out here, so I've been thinking a lot about a great many things, and this idea just occurred to me. And if you're anything like me, if you don't write down an idea, it's gone forever.

Keep being awesome, guys.
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Mature Content Filter is On
(Contains: strong language)
You ran your finger around the hot ceramic rim of your mug of hot chocolate, once again trying to convince yourself again that what you had with Al didn’t mean a thing. After all, that’s what you’d intended it to be; nothing. However, no matter how much you told yourself that, you couldn’t deny that even if he didn’t know it, he had you wrapped around his finger.

Al had become everything to you, but you were still having a hard time admitting that to yourself. You didn’t love; that wasn’t you. Monogamous relationships were not something you had ever been interested in, and therefore had never really engaged in one. Even with Al, you only intended for it to be a fling, and you knew he had too. Whether he was faithful to you, you didn’t know. But you knew you were faithful to him, and it hurt to think that perhaps he didn’t feel like you did.

I tell myself you don't mean a thing
That what we got, got no hold on me
But when you're not there, I just crumble
I tell myself I don't care that much
But I feel like I die 'til I feel your touch
Only love, only love can hurt like this


And as the music in the café became louder and invaded your hearing, you sighed. Love hurt, but no matter how much you tried to wrap your head around that fact, you couldn’t accept it. You looked at your watch, only to find that once again Al was an hour late for your date, and got out of your seat. You couldn’t be bothered waiting again, and without any hesitation, walked out of the café and along the streets, and tried not to think how that cocky grin made you feel, or the way he called you ‘doll’, or how he was in fact there when you needed him to be there.

Only love can hurt like this
Must have been a deadly kiss
Only love can hurt like this


Al pressed his face to the glass of the café window and slammed his fist against it in frustration upon realising you weren’t there. Not in your regular seat, not in any.

Al had never intended for this to happen, and he wanted to believe that one day that he would wake up to find it was only a dream, and go back to his old life of partying and forever having a new flavour of the week. But at the same time, that wasn’t what he wanted. He’d only ever intended for you to be another of the girls he eventually kicked to the curb; after all, you were just like him. Better to play you first than for you to play him.

Say I wouldn't care if you walked away
But every time you're there, I'm begging you to stay
When you come close I just tremble
And every time, every time you go
It's like a knife that cuts right through my soul
Only love, only love can hurt like this


But after just that one week with you, Al didn’t call it off. He kept it going. Gradually, he began to notice that you weren’t just another one-dimensional superficial Barbie. You were witty, and you were snarky. You challenged him, and it only further sparked his interest. He had you, but every day felt like he was trying to woo you again, and as much as he hated to admit it, he had very quickly found himself head-over-heels for you.

He knew this time, as his feet pounded the cement ground and the buildings flew by, that if you hadn’t been waiting for him, he’d probably never be able to leave you waiting again. At first he wanted to see how long you would wait, and how long you would put up with it. Two years, he’d discovered. But the gravity of his testing again and again had finally pushed you. Today, he’d actually been late for a reason; he wasn’t good with romance, and he’d never said he loved you, never assured you that you were his only, he just wanted a way to tell you, and he’d hoped by trying his best to propose to you would be the way to do it.

Only love can hurt like this
Must have been a deadly kiss
Only love can hurt like this
Only love can hurt like this


Al didn’t want to think that it would be the last time he could ever see you. He’d beg you to stay if he had to; no amount of pride would stop him from finding a way to keep you. Years of violence and brutal killing, and yet you had still stayed. His temper could only be quelled by you. His lungs burned, and his heart ached, and he was unable to be angry at anyone but himself. It hurt for someone like him to love someone like you; because no matter how much he wanted to walk away, he couldn’t.

Your kisses burn into my skin
Only love can hurt like this
But it's the sweetest pain
Burning hot through my veins
Love is torture
Makes me more sure


Hope bloomed inside him as he ran past the park gates, and out of the corner of his eye spotted your figure adorned with your black beanie and (f/c) trench coat walking along the gravel path, and as he turned himself to run to you, he yelled out your name.

“________!”

You froze and heard rapid footfalls make their way closer to you, and when they stopped behind you, you finally turned around to look at the panting, tanned man you had every intention of never seeing again.

“What do you want?”

“What the fuck? What do you mean, ‘what do you want’? I want to know why the fuck you weren’t there!” Al stood back up to his full height, towering over you, nostrils flaring. “I told you to wait there for me!”

Your expression twisted into a scowl. “Yeah, you’re always telling me to wait. Well you know what? I’m sick of waiting for you. Sick and bloody tired of waiting. I give up, Al. We’ve been doing this for too long.”

“_________,” Al’s tone became warning. “Don’t do this.”

“Do what? I just think that -”

“Stop.”

“- that we’ve just been together too long -”

“Shut up, ________.”

“- and that it’s about time that we broke up.”

If you were about to say anything else, you no longer had the ability. Al’s lips were covering yours, silencing you completely, and your struggles under his vice-like grip were becoming quickly weaker as you lost your will to fight him off. As your thrashing slowed to a stop, Al kissed you with less force, and gradually pulled away from you. Only for the palm of your hand to collide with his cheek. However, your lips burned with the aftermath of the intense kiss.

Only love can hurt like this
Only love can hurt like this
Must have been the deadly kiss
Only love can hurt like this


“… I might have deserved that,” But not a bit of remorse showed on his features. Instead, his hand dug into the pocket of his bomber jacket, and he thrust something small into your hand. Upon examining the object, your jaw dropped.

“Al, what the hell is this?!”

“You damned well know what it is. You’re mine. And I’m not going to let you go as easy as that. You’re the best girl I’ve ever met, nothing like anyone else. You’re my doll. And I’ll be damned to Hell if I let you get away.”

You stared at him in disbelief, taking in not only what he said, but how he said it with such intense emotion behind it. His facial expression was off too; he didn’t look like he was demanding, but begging. Your strong jackass had, in a matter of seconds, become a lost, confused, and irritated-looking child.

For what felt like forever, not a sound could be heard. Not a breath of wind. But slowly, your hands moved to put the ring on your left ring finger.

“Don’t make me regret the choice, you asshole.”

“I won’t, doll, trust me. Now, how’s about we go throw eggs at Matt’s new motorcycle?”

“… Is it shiny?”

“Very.”

“Stealing it sounds like more fun.”

Only love can hurt like this
Your kisses burn into my skin
Only love can hurt like this
Only love can hurt like this
Save me, save me
Only love, only love
'Cause only love can hurt like this
And it must have been the deadly kiss.


Love hurt, that much was true for both you and Al. But perhaps hurting wasn't so bad if that meant you could hurt together.
2P!America x Reader: Only Love Can Hurt Like This
Hellooooo.
I have another oneshot right here. I have no idea what anyone else thinks about it, but I'm pleased with it.

Disclaimers:
I don't own Hetalia, or any fanon characters to do with it.
I don't own 2P!America.
I don't own the song, which is a darn good song. You should play it while reading this. You can find it here: www.youtube.com/watch?v=PaKr9g…
I just own the plot.

Keep being awesome, guys.
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Mature Content Filter is On
(Contains: strong language)
Alistair got up late, as he always did, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he stepped out of his bedroom door, only to notice the silence around the mansion he lived in with his three brothers. Slowly he descended the long staircase, and peered into each room he passed, to find that for once, he was well and truly alone in the house.

He felt a grin spread slowly across his face, and he dashed into the kitchen.

Days like this, when all of his brothers were out of the house at once was a rare occurrence. Normally at least one would be lingering around like a bad smell and finding some way to irritated him and ruin his day, but when they were out of the house, the eldest of the Kirklands had a very special means of entertaining himself.

He flicked a switch on the stereo in the kitchen and the guitar began playing, and he grinned.

“Let’s go, girls! Come on!”

Okay, so maybe dancing around your kitchen with a wooden spoon singing songs wasn’t as uncommon as one might think, but no one would really pin something like that on Alistair, the rough and rugged personification of a Scottish stereotype, to do it. Yet, here he was, singing at the top of his lungs around the ancient mansion, doing just that.

“I'm going out tonight, I'm feeling alright
Gonna let it all hang out
Wanna make some noise, really raise my voice
Yeah, I wanna scream and shout
No inhibitions-make no conditions
Get a little outta line
I ain't gonna act politically correct
I only wanna have a good time!”

Alistair laughed and ran upstairs and threw on his kilt, and slid back down the banister on the way back to his ‘stage’.

“The best thing about being a woman
Is the prerogative to have a little fun

Oh, oh, oh, go totally crazy, forget I'm a lady
Men's shirts, short skirts
Oh, oh, oh, really go wild, yeah, doin' it in style
Oh, oh, oh, get in the action, feel the attraction
Color my hair, do what I dare
Oh, oh, oh, I wanna be free, yeah, to feel the way I feel
Man! I feel like a woman!”

Well, he didn’t really know what that felt like, to be honest. Maybe he’d ask his girlfriend _______ that one day. Upon rethinking, he decided that was a really terrible idea as he swung his hips around stripped off his black tank top.

“The girls need a break, tonight we're gonna take
The chance to get out on the town
We don't need romance, we only wanna dance
We're gonna let our hair hang down!”

He flipped his hair and ran a hand through it, and began hip thrusting, because obviously, that’s the best dance move ever.

“The best thing about being a woman
Is the prerogative to have a little fun

Oh, oh, oh, go totally crazy, forget I'm a lady
Men's shirts, short skirts
Oh, oh, oh, really go wild, yeah, doin' it in style
Oh, oh, oh, get in the action, feel the attraction
Color my hair, do what I dare
Oh, oh, oh, I wanna be free, yeah, to feel the way I feel
Man! I feel like a woman!”

Alistair stopped using the wooden spoon as a microphone, and instead turned it into an air-guitar as the guitar solo began to play.

“The best thing about being a woman
Is the prerogative to have a little fun, fun, fun

Oh, oh, oh, go totally crazy, forget I'm a lady
Men's shirts, short skirts
Oh, oh, oh, really go wild, yeah, doin' it in style
Oh, oh, oh, get in the action, feel the attraction
Color my hair, do what I dare
Oh, oh, oh, I wanna be free, yeah, to feel the way I feel
Man! I feel like a woman!”

Alistair put the spoon back up to his mouth, and very much off key, sang as loudly as he possibly could.

“I get totally crazy
Can you feel it?
Come, come, come on baby!
I feel like a woman!”

However, the enjoyment of feeling like the greatest performer alive was short-lived when he heard snickering and snorting behind him, only for him to be met with the stomach-churning sight of his girlfriend, with a hand over her mouth and tears streaming down her face (not unlike Prussia when Germany had to pretend to be an American)… And holding her phone up, obviously recording him.

“Oh, fuck,” Alistair, who had momentarily been glued to the floor, took one step toward her, and she almost immediately disappeared out the door. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“I AM NOT SORRY!” That was the last he heard from her that day. No replies to his texts, not answering when he called her, and definitely not answering err door when he finally swallowed what was left of his pride and actually left his house.

But Alistair felt like he could trust _______. She’d probably just use that as blackmail in the future. He’d built up centuries of trust with her; there’s no way she’d ever show anyone.


Apparently his trust in _______ was totally and utterly misplaced, because he stepped into the world conference room the next day, only for his face to drain of colour, and then become as red as his hair at the sight of the nations falling out of their seats with hysterical laughter at the video of the high and mighty Scotland dancing around his house in a kilt singing ‘Man! I Feel Like A Woman!’. The laughter only became louder when Arthur noticed that Alistair had actually arrived.

“Look! It’s the man himself!” England couldn’t say much more; he was laughing so hard he wasn’t actually making noise anymore. Just sort of clapping like a seal.

“I’m so sorry…! I just couldn’t help myself…!” _______ waddled over to her boyfriend, using him to support her weight as she tried not to join the rest of the world on the floor. Not even Germany or Sweden could contain their laughter.

“How could you do that to me, lass?!”

“I’m sorry, Alistair…!” She wheezed.

“How could you do that to me?!” Alistair angrily bellowed at her.

“It’s no big deal! I do it all the time!”

“But you made a laughing stock out of me! Do you have anything to say for yourself?!”

“… Man, I feel like a woman!” Alistair barely had time to register your cheeky grin before he was watching your form dive out of the conference room door, and he quickly made chase, leaving the guffawing and wheezing of the other nations behind him.

“_________, GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW! I’LL GET YOU, WOMAN!”

“I’M GONNA SHOW NESSIE!”

“______________________________________________________!!!”
Hetalia x Reader: ... I Visit Scotland! Part Two
Yeah, yeah, I know I have others to do, but I couldn't help myself. I had no intention of writing any part twos, to be honest. But it could easily be read as just a standalone as it doesn't really make any references to the previous part.
This is a contest entry, and I thought that seeing as I was making it Scotland, why not make it a part two, from a more Scotland-based point of view?
And why not make it a side of Scotland not explored as much as others? After, fanfiction is the creation of characters we enjoy, fanon or canon, and exploring them to their full potential. "WARP SPEED AHEAD!", I say.
This reason this has a content filter on it is just for the swearing in there. Better to be safe than sorry with your content, in my opinion.

Here's the introduction: mademoiselleautumn.deviantart.…
And here's Part One: mademoiselleautumn.deviantart.…


Disclaimers:
I don't own Scotland.
I don't own Hetalia and the nations affiliated with the original anime.
I don't own the artwork.
And I don't own that song, which if you don't have, can be found here: www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZJL4UG…
I just own the plot, and hope you enjoy.

Keep being awesome, guys.
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Hey there, people. I figured I should explain why there's so little happening right now. It's been busy for me.

1. I got a new job, and I work quite a bit.
2. I study online, and I have a course to finish.
3. I'm lacking inspiration. A lot of it.
4. I've been sick too, and I'm having some sinus problems.
5. My sister-in-law had a baby this morning.

It doesn't seem like a lot but they are time consuming, and have been taking me away from my hobbies on here, which is unfortunate. I like what I do here, and it's pretty clear other people like what I do. If they didn't I wouldn't be trying so hard. I'm just asking for a little bit of patience.

Thanks, guys. Keep being awesome.
  • Listening to: Lullaby by Daughtry
  • Reading: The Skin Collector by Jeffery Deaver
  • Eating: Toast.
  • Drinking: Tea.

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:iconprincessautumnarcher:
PrincessAutumnArcher Featured By Owner Jul 26, 2014  Student General Artist
Thank you so much for the gift of the lovely watch, the fave, and your wonderful feedback. I really can't express how happy I am. Thank you once more and I hope you have a day just as fantastic as you are. ^^
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:iconmademoiselleautumn:
MademoiselleAutumn Featured By Owner Jul 26, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
You deserved it! :) And a whole lot more than what I could give just by myself. XD And thank you very much. I hope you have a truly awesome day. :)
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:icongirafffecupcakes:
girafffecupcakes Featured By Owner Jul 25, 2014
Thanks for the watch!
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:iconmademoiselleautumn:
MademoiselleAutumn Featured By Owner Jul 26, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
No worries! :3
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:iconofwhatdreamsmaycome:
OfWhatDreamsMayCome Featured By Owner Jun 30, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Always a pleasure reading your stories, madam. :D Keep up the good work. 
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:iconmademoiselleautumn:
MademoiselleAutumn Featured By Owner Jun 30, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
I'm glad you enjoy them. :3 Thank you very much.
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:iconofwhatdreamsmaycome:
OfWhatDreamsMayCome Featured By Owner Jun 30, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
I do! And no problem! :)
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:iconivyandtwine:
ivyandtwine Featured By Owner Jun 13, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
thanks for the fave :]
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:iconmademoiselleautumn:
MademoiselleAutumn Featured By Owner Jun 13, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
No problem! It was well deserved. :)
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:icongueparddefeu:
GueparddeFeu Featured By Owner Jun 5, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Hello!

Welcome in my group :iconhetafrance:!=D
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