#hetalia imagine

[married-to-google-translater]

Can I request Russia x female reader where S/O tells Ivan how much she loves him? He's a big sweetie who needs love! (Just some cute stuff where someone says that they love Russia without being creepy and related to him)

This GIF is gold lol.

Ivan Braginski

You and Ivan would have a really good relationship.

Except that he would be a little unsure that you would leave him.

You wouldn't be the first person.

Some days he would be more insecure than others.

And on those days, he would need reassurance that you love him.

Or you don't and you notice that a tracker has appeared on your phone XD

Today would be one of those days when he would be insecure and need love.

Maybe he had a nightmare where you left him.

And even if this was a dream it would shock him badly.

Ivan would need you to tell him how much you love him…

And of course lots of hugs and kisses.

One kiss is definitely not enough.

This goes on for at least half an hour.

If you also tell him verbally how much you love him that would also help a lot.

Bonus points if you can speak Russian...

Ivan would really feel better.

He would really believe you when you said you don't want to leave him.

You might still get a tracker on your phone… Because why not.

[chocolatte-and-despair]

Can you do 2p Face family sharing a s/o

Yandere 2P FACE

To start, the fact you managed to steal the hearts of them all is an absolute surprise not only to you, but to them too. I mean, they all have different interests in partners, but here you are, breaking those interests for them and proving that they can love someone who isn't their "type" too.

It all started when James brought you back home, as his partner. You were a mature and educated individual, which surprised everyone that you ended up dating some hick from the country. It seemed that you started dating after you met him while volunteering at the local shelter that he was volunteering at. And everything else is simply history.

You were polite but didn't let anyone walk over you. You enjoyed being nice, but also knowing your own worth. Allen once tried to fuck around with you and make you seem worse than you were, but you put him right in his place.

That was exactly the moment he fell for you. Well, he fell for you before, but this was when he finally accepted that he was crushing on his brother's partner.

The next to fall was Oliver. See, you disliked Oliver, but you respected him. And that dislike made you something hard to achieve. And he wanted to get you now that he could not.

The last person to fall was Louis, the father figure of James. A troubled soul and failing artist who has fallen into some horrible habits out of despair.

Why did he fall for you? You were the only one who came to the art show that he had put on. You came with james to show his father figure support, but ended up moving him in a way that nobody else had managed to.

In general, life was quite easy at first, when everyone, besides James, felt like he was allowed to openly love you. For different reasons, all of them tried to hide their feelings for you. Allen because he didn't believe you could ever like him, Oliver because he couldn't believe he liked you, and Louis because he couldn't betray his son in such a way. But that didn't last long, of course.

James is not happy about sharing you, you're his partner after all. But it's better than having three rivals, and losing your family. He wished he could change things up so you were a bit happier, but sometimes, things like that can't be achieved and he accepted that not losing you is better than you being happy, but without him.

No matter what, James is near you, even if it's the time for others to be with you. He's your first one, your main man, so he has the right to be there.

Allen is the most unhappy about it and often gets into fights with James over getting alone time with you. Oliver and Louis, for different reasons, doesn't mind James tagging along.

Of course, all of them sneak alone time with you, when James is busy or not keeping an eye on you. There is always a way to trick James, as he was never the smartest.

[merbear25]

”You’ll have to teach me” for France? Preferably with something safe for *cough* *cough* corporate sensibilities.

Hello, hello! Thank you for sending in this request! I read 'corporate' and ran with that as the setting. Hope you like it!

CW: SFW but suggestive, gn!reader, a bit of a power dynamic.

Following your lead

You'd been interested in working along side France for quite sometime; being able to contribute to one of the greatest world powers was your drive to do well in your studies. With your ambitious nature leading you to your dream job, you were thrilled to have secured the position as his assistant. Thoughts of standing by his side, aiding him in any pressing decisions that may come your way, and overall presenting yourselves as a team had you walking on air.

With that being said, you weren't expecting the fluttering feelings that'd eventually captivate you; those brief moments of flirtation at the beginning of your career lingered in your memories. Thinking of such, inevitably heated your chest and flushed your cheeks.

The physical closeness was another aspect of your dynamic that made your head spin: gently brushing against you while showing you something, lightly laying his hand on the small of your back when trying to lead your attention somewhere. His touch which—when accompanied by complementary comments on your clever ideas and your laugh—left you lying awake at night, engrossed in your own fantasies.

In spite of the attention he gave you, you were very much aware of him showing the same to others. You contemplated whether or not this side of him would cause your growing interest in him to faulter—the point was mute, as you were willing to pursue a man with such habits regardless.

In the passing months, your responsibilities were becoming more complex, which left you second guessing your competence. This wasn't to say that you were doing poorly at completing any of them, although the worrying thoughts of being incapable of keeping up your success rate were closing in. You felt as if you needed a bit more guidance in how you handled your new trying workload.

You could think of no one more appropriate to ask than the captain of this ship—France. As you stood outside his office door, you hesitantly brought your hand up to it, thinking that perhaps he was far too busy to fulfill your minute request. Despite this sliver of doubt, you knocked and were permitted entry.

Looking up from his work, a smile spread across his face when he saw it was you who'd come to visit him. "What can I do for you?" The question was left airy with a faint sultry undertone.

A slight heat nipped at your cheeks, but you tried to keep sight of your purpose for distrubing him, "Sir, I fear as though I may be misinterpreting some of the tasks you've given me. I'd like some clarification on what exactly you need from me." Choking back your shame, you admitted, "You'll have to teach me."

His smile became coy and he eased himself out of his chair to gain a more personable feel to the conversation, "That's quite the loaded request, my dear."

Letting his eyes fall on you, soaking in the magnificent assistant he was so lucky to have by his side, words of encouragement were first to leave his lips, "Of course, I'm always more than happy to help you."

Taking a short pause, the next words trailing behind signaled a pounding within your chest, "However, frankly speaking, I'm far more interested in fulfilling more passionate needs."

Your chest heaved at the newfound avenues being paved in your relationship. A gnawing pressure to push forth and explore your fantasies of him was too persistent to ignore, "I couldn't agree more, sir."

[write-a-circle]

crush headcanons

ft. seychelles, hong kong, lithuania

content warning: none

SEYCHELLES

It’s hard to tell exactly who, as Seychelles is so sweet and friendly to everyone, but if you look close enough, you’ll see that she’ll get shyer around them.

The signs are subtle: the way her lips quirk up when she sees them, that extra spring when she steps and dances, how she offers to stay and help them even after her own work had finished

Seychelles would get even clumsier around you, hands fumbling and tripping over herself every second. Sometimes Seychelles is glad that her skin isn’t pale, or her blush would be so bright and visible that someone standing from outer space could see it as bright as day.

Whenever she’s with them, Seychelles feels like she’s standing next to the gate to heaven. It was beautiful and dazzling, it calls to the bottom of her very soul. Yet her hands are tied. She couldn’t reach out nor move a step.

It would take her a very long time to confess, or maybe she wouldn’t even confess at all. She was dull and clumsy and was only good for her singing and dancing - she was useless. Why should someone so amazing deserve to be stuck with her?

Whether if her crush chooses to return her feelings or to give their love to another, Seychelles would be there to support them no matter what.

HONG KONG

Hong Kong’s crushes are usually on people that he’s already friends with, and he doesn’t realize it until someone points it out for him. Those lingering touches and short silences between sentences? Yeah, he’s definitely got it down.

He loves how their mind and his synchronizes, the way theirs and his thoughts bounce off of each other, and it’s very comforting for Hong Kong to know that he could relax around them at all times. He’s known, laughed and cried with them for so long that he feels like he could always be himself with them.

He doesn’t need to choose his words carefully when they talk, Hong Kong knows that he could share every thought with them, whether it be his interests and hobbies or his feelings on Yao’s insistence on not letting him become independent

He’s a straightforward person but deep down, Hong Kong doesn’t want to lose his friendship with them. He’ll tell them one day, he says to himself, yet seeing them cling to his shoulder for dear life as they laugh uncontrollably at a bad joke he made, Hong Kong realizes that he can’t keep his feelings down for much longer.

LITHUANIA

This is a tough one. Lithuania doesn’t crush often, but once he does, he crushes hard. It might even last for centuries, especially when it’s one-sided (see: Belarus). He can’t help it, his heart can’t let things go easily, even more when it’s someone so beautiful yet so untouchable.

Lithuania definitely gets nervous, stumbles on his words, nods at everything his crush says and might be even more of a pushover than he usually is.

Like Seychelles, he tries to help them out as much as he can. Document overloading? Yeah, he’ll help them sort them out. They’re tired? He’ll cook and finish chores for them, they should go and get some sleep, he’ll be fine.

Lithuania tries to become some sort of figure for them to depend on, and that takes a massive toll on him. His schedule is already jam-packed with work, work, work, work, and even more work from trying to help his crush out? Lithuania convinces himself that he’s getting sleep every time he blinks.

The stress he gets from putting way too much on his plate worsens his already bad mental health, and everything just gets worse and worse and worse. It isn’t even the crush’s doing, Lithuania himself is the center of the problem.

Estonia and Latvia eventually notices the dark circles and greying hair. They ask Lithuania what’s going on, only to be pushed away. And it’s not Poland? They delved into investigation and all signs pointed to Lithuania pushing himself around for someone he liked.

A confrontation between the two Baltics and Lithuania’s crush is inevitable, even if Tolys himself denies everything that was going on.

Overall, Lithuania needs to get his shit back together before attempting to enter a relationship, but when he does, he is going to be the absolute best at courtship.

[ransprang]

Hi! I saw that you write for hetalia and I was wondering if you could do hcs with germany and where him and his preg s/o are in a meeting and suddenly her water breaks?

Germany x pregnant! s/o

Germany was holding a meeting with all the important countries in the world like Japan and America. Today was a pretty big day as they were discussing peace treaties.

You got the opportunity to watch him speak so passionately as you are heavily pregnant and he doesn't want you out of his sight.

Suddenly America shouts "YO Y/N DID YOU PISS YOURSELF? IT'S OK IT HAPPENS TO ME TOO HAHAHAHH"

Looking down you realize your water has broken and made eye contact with Germany. His face turns red as he takes off his coat to soak up the liquid.

There is no time to get you to the hospital. He realizes this must be done then and there in the moment with every nation's eye on you.

He commands the entire room as if he was commanding an army, "EVERYONE CHANT PUSH TOGETHER!"

The whole room breaks into a melodic "PUSH PUSH PUSH". You feel the motivation in the room, and the little German already started obeying orders.

Just like that the baby slipped out into Germany's hands. You lived happily ever after <3

your fetuses,

admins san, sav & sar

[applsauss]

Östliche Helden | II

Description: “The wall will fall. Because we want it to, and because it can’t stay up forever. And we’ll be there when it falls, or when it gets torn down by people, you know?”

Fandom: Hetalia


Pairing: Human!Prussia (Gilbert Beilschmidt)/Reader

Word Count: 2.9k+

Warning(s): None.

Somewhere along the route to your apartment building, both you and Gilbert give up on the race. Now you’re pushing your bikes under a silent truce. It is unspoken, the way you drag your feet to milk further whatever time you have together.

Gilbert is on the sidewalk, and you’re walking along the road, occasionally taking the long way around parked cars. “--and so I feel like I’m getting close, you know?” Gilbert says, skirting his bike around a small, planted tree. The wind pushes a cloud over the sun, and the street is suddenly thrust into grey shadow. Just as quickly, however, the sun is back to warm the top of your head and shoulders.

“Of course you are,” you reply, watching the profile of his face. “You’re smart and hard-working, more so than half of the guys on the site, I’ll bet. Your superintendent would have to have tomatoes on his eyes if he doesn’t see you’re a good fit to be a welder.” 

He comes to a stop, huffs, then fixes you with a rueful smile, like he almost doesn’t believe you. “Yea?” 

“Of course, Gib! Don’t look so surprised! When will you know for sure whether or not you get the job?” You park your bike next to his and reach over to give his shoulder a little shake. 

“Wednesday.”

You realize belatedly that you’re standing in front of your building, the Plattenbau standing up tall. You squint up at it, and find that each apartment’s large, luxurious windows reflect the blue of the sky. Gilbert glances around sheepishly, dwarfed by the structure. “Well... I’m off.” He makes to leave, but you tug on his shirt and raise an eyebrow at his sudden, subdued attitude. 

“Gilbert?” 

He shakes his head. “I’m fine.” He leans over his bike and leaves a chaste kiss on your lips. When he pulls away, he’s smiling again, pale eyes flashing with color.

“See you tomorrow, right?” you ask, half in an attempt to draw the moment out.

He shakes his head. “I’m working late. Saturday instead?” The breeze cools the heat of the sun on your back.

You nod. “Sounds good. At the factory?” 

“I’ll meet you there. Twelve, or?” 

“Twelve.” You lean over his bike and press up onto your toes to leave one more kiss on his face, which catches more cheek than mouth. His fair stubble is rough under your lips. You smile. Then he steps back, swings a leg over his bike and sets a foot on the pedal.

“Tschüss, Gib.” 

“Bye. See you soon.”

You watch him pedal off, then turn and enter the building.

***

“Bounce-and-bounce-and-bounce!” you coo, bobbing your knee under Michael, your nearly two-year-old nephew as he squeals. His smile is so charming; his chubby, malleable cheeks pushed up in a wide grin. You want to bend down and blow a raspberry on his tummy so he’ll giggle in that high-pitched, uncontrollable way children do.

“Silly!” He reaches out and makes grabby hands at your face. You smell peanut butter on his fingers and wrinkle your nose. 

“Nooo,” you say, leaning back so he can’t touch your face or grab your hair with his sticky hands, “Micha’s silly. Micha, why are you so silly?” 

“Silly!” He giggles. You wiggle your fingers in his armpits and he squeals, arms flailing, then squirms in your hold, nearly throwing himself off your knee before you grab him and twist him around so he’s sitting in your lap. 

“Be careful, silly!” you chide gently.

Elizaveta laughs, watching this unfold, and the sound turns Micha’s attention back onto his mother. 

“Mami!” He wiggles off your lap and lands on shaky legs, his knees bowing and almost giving out under his own weight. He allows you to help him as he catches his balance, then takes off toddling towards his Mami. Elizaveta smiles, and reaches out before he can round the sharp corner of the coffee table. 

“Yes, Liebe, hello!” Micha laughs as she sweeps him off his feet and into her lap, cuddling close to him.

“Silly Mami!” He reaches up to her and she takes his hand in her own and kisses his knuckles. 

“No… Micha’s silly. And you smell like peanut butter. Did Vati not wash your hands like I told him to?” she teases Micha, who only seems to understand the words ‘Silly’ and ‘Vati’. He giggles again, then slips off Elizaveta’s lap and waddles on over to the dining table, where Roderich and your father are sitting. He grabs Roderich’s pant leg, who smiles and smooths Micha’s hair back.

“And how are you coming along with the sonata?” your father asks Roderich over his clasped hands.

Roderich pinches Micha’s cheek, then turns back to your father. “Fine. Leonard was having some trouble on the second half, but we managed to smooth it out in the afternoon.”

They’re sharing a conversation about the Konzerthausorchester, or the Concert House Orchestra, based out of East Berlin’s resident concert house. Both your father, and your brother, Roderich, are members; the first as a conductor, and the second as a pianist. They were both disappointed when you told them you did not want to continue with the viola in secondary school. Even your late brother Michael was on track to follow in their footsteps.

“How are your classes going?” Elizaveta asks, drawing your attention back to the sitting room. The velvet fabric of the couch beneath you is soft, and the radio is tuned to a classical station and playing at a low hum. 

You pinch the inside of your arm hard and shrug nonchalantly. “Fine. Fluid mechanics and hydraulics are interesting courses to take.”

Elizaveta nods amicably. “You don’t miss…what was it you were studying before?” 

“Nuclear engineering,” you supply with thinly veiled resentment.

She tilts her head. “Do you miss it?”

“No,” you lie.

“And what are you studying now?” Elizaveta asks.

“Civil engineering.” 

“Ah--” she sits back and nods in recognition-- “to design cities.” 

“Yes. And roads, the Reichsbahn, even, or the wall.” 

“It sounds important.” 

“Oh, it is!” your mother says suddenly, as she sets a tray of biscuits and tea on the coffee table. “We’re so proud, even if Y/N doesn’t want to go into the orchestra like Marcel and Roderich.” 

You glance over to where your father and brother are sitting at the mention of their names. “I’m just better at numbers,” you deflect. 

Elizaveta gratefully accepts a mug of tea from your mother, then looks back and fixes you with a smile. “Oh! Marcel told me and Rod you’ve made a friend in philosophy.”

“Kristian Richter,” your mother says, and you scoff as she continues, “Marcel knows his father; they were soldiers together, in the same unit.”

“I don’t want to be his friend,” you tell Elizaveta when your mother sits down on the couch next to you.

“Ah--don’t say things like that,” your mother scolds lightly .

Elizaveta frowns. “Why don’t you like him?” 

“Can’t you tell from the name?” She gives you an amused look, and you lean over to dramatically whisper: “Stasi snitch. Him and his father both!”

She laughs. 

“That, and he won’t stop asking me out on dates.” 

“He’s a nice boy,” your mother argues. 

You frown and shake your head. “Gilbert is nicer.” 

Elizaveta’s sudden, loud laugh seems to surprise even her. She slaps a hand over her mouth and her face turns beet-red, while your mother simply watches, weary, but on some level amused as well. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to someone calling Gib ‘nice.’” Elizaveta grins at you, and her words take on a teasing quality. “He was always just a brat to me, you know! He wouldn’t stop pestering me to play with him growing up.” 

You laugh and relax into the topic of conversation like a warm bath. Elizaveta grew up in the apartment above Gilbert and Ludwig. “He told me you used to beat him up when you pretended to sword fight,” you say, your voice barely containing the laughter you feel bubbling in your chest at the thought of little Gilbert pouting.

“Well,” Elizaveta says, “it wasn’t my fault he was so bad at it.” Micha toddles over and tries to take a cookie off the plate. Elizaveta stops him before he can reach, but shares some of hers with him. 

“See? Why would I want anyone else when I can have someone as bad at sword fighting as Gib? Kristian can--”

“Kristian Richter?” You glance up to find both your father and Roderich standing behind Elizaveta’s chair. “He’s a good boy. We’ll be having his family for dinner next week, you know?” your father continues.

“What? All of them?” you ask.

“Of course!” 

You cross your arms. “Fine. I’ll be out that day, then.” 

“You will not.” Your father fixes you with a hard look, and your eyebrows knit together in scrutiny, then a sinking suspicion. It would be just too perfect for your father if his child and the son of a well-off acquaintance began dating.

 “We’re a family,” your father continues, “and we’ll eat as one when we have company.” He turns to your mother and softens his tone. “Me and Rod are going out for drinks. Would you like to come?” 

“Ah,” your mother says, “no thank you, but I’m sure Elizaveta would.” She takes Micha out of your sister-in-law’s hands and ushers her up. “Go and have some time away from the baby. He’ll be fine here with Oma. We’ll do a puzzle and eat more cookies.” 

Your father and Roderich depart for the door, but Elizaveta lingers by the chair. “Oh, thank you. Are you sure, Julia?”

“Absolutely. Now go!” 

Elizaveta smiles gratefully, then hurries to meet Roderich at the front door, who’s waiting with her coat. You watch them leave, then flop back against the couch cushions and switch on the TV. It is already tuned to a western channel running yet another story on the Chernobyl disaster that took place months ago. 

You glare at the TV, then roll off the couch and stalk back to your room.

***

It’s a hard thing to do, let go of the raw anger you still harbor from having a decision that you’d been promised ripped from your hands once again. It’d been a hot summer. East Berlin was choked by the heat, the stench of Trabis and what some joked was nuclear fallout from the reactor meltdown in Chernobyl. 

Two years into your nuclear engineering degree was when your father had decided that he thought it was too dangerous a field for you to go into, as if what happened in Chernobyl was commonplace. It’d been the career you’d decided on after compounding all your childhood interests, and you were infinitely curious of the cutting-edge work nuclear scientists had the honor of performing; of discovering. 

Civil engineering is barely a science in comparison--and still, your father marched you down to the University under the hot summer sun and told the counselor to switch all your courses, not listening to a word. His mind was already made up. You couldn’t bear to look at him on the way home.

“I saw Marcus today,” Gilbert says. You’re asleep, in your thoughts, and his sudden voice feels like a bucket of ice water dumped over you.

You look up, surprised to hear about your old classmate. You, Marcus and Gilbert, the three of you had been close, but Marcus had dropped off the face of the earth ever since he signed his name away to the Volksarmee. “Oh, really?” you ask, perked up.

“Yea. We’re going out for drinks on Thursday. Want to come?” 

You slump back against the wall, aware of how over-dramatic you’re being. “My parents are having Kristian and his family over on Thursday.” 

Gilbert purses his lips and looks down at his knees. “Oh. Too bad.” 

You regard him critically for a moment, then say, “I’ll still go. Afterwards, I mean. I have a feeling I’m gonna need it.” 

Silence.

“He’s a border guard now, you know. Marcus, I mean,” Gilbert says after a long pause.

“Really?” 

“Yea.” Gilbert nods. “He said he’s stationed right here in Berlin.”

Both you and Gilbert are sitting on top of a broken chest of drawers on the far side of the room, next to the poster you’d been inspecting days earlier. In front of you is the window, and through it is West Berlin, lit up like heaven under the golden sun.

The afternoon is lazy, and the weather is mild, even for early autumn. You wonder if it might even be warm enough for a swim.

The radio is playing another popular American song that neither of you are paying attention to. The announcer cuts back in with another product endorsement, and Gilbert grunts, turns the knob controlling the volume down, and sits back. 

Now it’s quieter, and you both watch as the windows glitter in West Berlin. 

“They’re just trying to upstage the Soviets,” your mother had said bitterly one day, after the western channels all broadcasted the same showcase of their clean streets, shiny autos and happy, smiling people, like the ones in the posters. “Nothing is ever that good.”

“Do you think it’s good, living there?” Gilbert asks suddenly, in the quiet voice he uses when he’s thinking about something, and not sure how to put it into words.

You let out a huff, thinking of your mother’s words. “Of course. They’re free, aren’t they?” 

“Free… But they still have a wall around them.” He picks up his radio and runs his thumbs along the edges of the speaker. “They’re more stuck than we are, at least in West Berlin, right?” He sets the radio back down beside him. The broadcast crackles, and so he fiddles with the antenna.

You watch him for a moment, buzzing emotion mounting in your chest, then turn back to stare at West Berlin. “Their wall has ways around it. They can hop on the train whenever they like, or take a plane. It’s different. And they have choices. Nobody tells them what job they can or can’t have, or where they’re allowed to go and for how long.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, and you both stare out the window. “Do you think the wall will ever fall?” 

“I don’t know.”

“Sometimes...” Gilbert swallows thickly. “Sometimes when I watch TV, I’m jealous of how much everyone else seems to have. Like you said, in the West it’s different. Everyone drives cars and drinks sodas and are free to be whoever they want to be without ever really having to think about it. What we have… Compared to what they have…”

“Then it’ll fall,” you say with confidence that surprises even you. 

“What?” 

“The wall will fall. Because we want it to, and because it can’t stay up forever. And we’ll be there when it falls, or when it gets torn down by people, you know?” After a moment you add, “and besides. We’re Germans, aren’t we? We’re all the same. It’s not right to be seperate, to pretend some of us deserve less. Everyone thinks that.” 

He offers you an exhausted laugh in response. “I guess… They can’t shoot all of us, can they?”

You try and smile, but you’re not sure. There probably exists enough bullets, but you don’t think escaping to West Berlin is what he’s upset about. A new song starts. “Of course not,” you say anyways. 

You hop off the chest of drawers, turn the volume of the radio back up, then grab Gilbert’s hands and tug him back towards the center of the room with you. He gives you a wry grin, like he understands what you’re doing but is letting it happen anyways, and twirls you, then draws you back and continues to dance with you to the upbeat melody. 

“Help me make the most of freedom and of pleasure,

Nothing ever lasts forever,

Everybody wants to rule the world.”

Gilbert’s hands are rough in yours, as you tug him around the room and shimmy to whatever nonsense pop is playing. It’s easy for the English to fade into the background. You stretch up on your toes to twirl him, and he laughs but ducks under your arm anyways. You hear the ending riff of the song, then dip him as low as you can, and he shouts, scrabbles for purchase on your shoulders, but doesn’t fall. 

You pause for a moment to stare at his face as he smiles, and feel the same emotions you felt before choke you--resentment of your education, uncertainty for the future, worry for Gilbert and what he isn’t telling you. You lose the battle to keep it on the inside.

“Gilbert--”

He tugs your head down to touch his nose to yours, sharing air, smiling gently up at you, then he catches your mouth with his. You let out a small puff of air, and let him kiss you; eyes closing and eyebrows unknitting as he stands to his full height, just tall enough so you have to tip your chin up to slant your lips under his.

“Thank you,” he mumbles into your mouth. He guides you back to the chest of drawers, and when you knock into it, you huff, pull back just enough to suck in a breath and maybe say something, but the way he’s looking at you makes it impossible to speak. His face is awed, eyes looking over your expression, thumbs dipping under the hem of your shirt.

 “Gilbert…” you manage to whisper before he kisses you solidly again, and you let the physicality barge its way into your head and wipe clean whatever worries you’d been holding on so tightly to. They don’t matter anyways. Not when you have this instead.

***

Translations:

Tschüss. Bye.

Mami. Mommy (Hungarian).

Das Konzerthausorchester. The Concert House Orchestra. Based in East Germany, rival to West Berlin’s orchestra, Berliner Philharmoniker.

Stasi. Short for Ministerium für Staatssicherheit (The Ministry of State Security). The GDR’s secret police. Widely considered the most efficient and repressive intelligence agency to have ever existed. Of the GDR’s total population, 1 in 7 people were thought to be Stasi informants.

Oma. Grandma, Grandmother.

Trabis. Plural of Trabi. Short for Trabant. A mass-produced car made by an East German company. Because the company was a state monopoly, East Germans buyers were commonly put on a waiting-list of up to ten years. The Trabant was also a comically awful car (It was made cheaply, awful to look at, slow, unreliable and the exhaust stunk).

Nationale Volksarmee. The GDR’s army. (Literal Translation: National People’s Army)

Masterlist | Posting Schedule

[burntanus]

COMISSIONS OPEN

Hi! I'm not the best artist, but I'm looking to sell some of my art!

I do

- nsfw art (no pedo shit)

- Portraits

- Full body

- Comics

- sketches

- IRL paintings I can send through the mail

Just about anything really, just ask in my ask box!

Heres some of my art!

If you're interested, or want more details, send an ask! Thank you!

[germanystrashcan-blog]

Headcannon for Germany I had - Although he is the most serious country, when Prussia isn't home he spends time in a room full of stuffed toys and has even fallen asleep in there. It usually ends up in Prussia heavily asking him where he was when he sees Germany in the kitchen the next day

Soft Germany vibes

[kan-be]

bunch of very old and not so comms I never posted for some reason but still like 😇 the more recent ones were made for @raven6229 and @frog-frussy !!! the owners of the old ones are lost in IG im afraid......

[married-to-google-translater]

Yandere Italy with an S/O who likes to playfully bully him

Yandere (north) Italy

Oh poor boy.

Feli is definitely not mentally prepared.

Maybe your kidnapping was a bad idea.

This would be an emotional roller coaster.

more than 60% of the time downhill.

You can be really sadistic.

( Sadistic = you don't give him hugs. )

You are really creative.

Feli always doesn't understand sarcasm and that you enjoy teasing him.

Although he grew up with Romano.

However, Feli will take it.

He won't punish you either.

This is part of your personality and he loves you for it.

But once you went too far.

You cut the pasta before you started cooking it.

Feli was really shocked.

This was indeed wrong.

You must have been punished for this.

Don't mess with his food.

They are a good thing for him.

In addition to you.

[royaltea000]

Two young knights

[renonv]

Been meaning to draw them as Barbie and Ken 😭💖

[hellonerf]

a snuff film, my slug record

[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.

[keiksy-cake]

Hetalia Collezione Poll fifth page

I left the notes about alcohol since I figured maybe some little kiddies here aren't familiar with the terms

all collezione pages

[Please note, I’m an amateur in Japanese and have to use various resources and translation machines to help me. If you notice a possible mistake or want clarification, please bring it up to me *politely* and not aggressively or hostile.]