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"Do canadians kids ride polar bears to school?"
Matthew Williams, also known as Canada, peered up from his newspaper to look at his friend, (your name) glaring into the computer screen in front of her.
"Uh...no (your name), we don't ride polar bears at all." he said, flipping to a new page without hassle.
"Okay." she sighed, making a funny shape with her tounge while waiting for the next page to load. Matthew gave her a little look before looking back blushing. She's so damn cute, he thought.
"Do canadians play hockey all the time?"
Matthew gave a puzzling look before finally answering.
"N-no. Some don't play hockey at all much less every-"
"Is it true you put mayple syrup on everything?"
Matthew turned lightly pink, becayse of the horrible stereotypicalism. Did people really think that about canadians? Nobody remembered him anyway so what did it matter? What was worse to him now what was (your name) thought of him.
"Do canadians give people whatever they want because their 'soo' nice?
"Everyone drinks Vodka?"
The tall Russian man names Ivan, looked up to his dear friend (your name), who was 'supposed' to be looking for information about America. Don't ask why he wanted HER specifically to do it, maybe it was because he just liked seeing her. But for now, he was wishing he hadn't.
"No (your name)." Ivan replied, although chuckling to himself since HE was drinking vodka at the moment himself.
"Is Russia cold all year round?" (Your name) asked again, still looking at the computer screen in front of her.
Ivan felt like it was going to burn her eyes.
"No no (your name) it's not. But, why are you-"
"Russians only own warm clothes?"
Ivan gave her a 'are-you-retarded' look, before sighing and going towards her. Leaning over her shoulder, and peering at the computer screen. 'Russian Stereotypes' was the main page.
"Why are looking at this (your name)? You're supposed to look for America's weaknesses."
"I know I know. Hold on." (your name) giggled, making Ivan lean back a lit
"(Your name) vhat are you looking at?" Ludwig, also known as germany, replied standing above the (h/c) haired girl sitting at his computer. She was hardly paying attention, just glaring at the screen in front of her.
"Hmm.." was all he got from her. Sighing, he grabbed a newspaper and began to read it while still staring at her, wondering what on earth she was doing.
"Is it true all Germans are mean and tough?"
Ludwig took a moment to understand what she was asking, making sure he didn't take it the wrong way.
"No (your name), why vould you think something like zat-"
"Are Germans always angry?"
His face began to heat up. It was like she was pressuring him.
"No (your name), I don't see why zis is-"
"Are all Germans obsessed with beer?"
Ludwig's eyebrow twitched slightly.
"N-no! Verdammit (your name).."
"Do you guys only eat sausage and schnitzels?"
"Of course not!" Ludwig was getting furious. Not at (your name), but at the damn stereotypes she was reading about him and his culture. He d
"Feliciano can I ask you a question?"
A happy-go-lucky italian lifted his head from his bowl of pasta to see his friend (your name) using his computer.
"(N)-(Your name)!? How'd you ah get in my house-"
"Are Italian's all loud?"
Feliciano looked almost offended.
"N-no. Bu-but why are you-"
"Is it true most to all italians are fat and hairy?"
The italian man's eyes widened. His brows then made a depressed look.
"No (Your name)! See! Look at me!"
(Your name) turned to see her italian friend point to himself, and taking a look at hm she knew that wasn't true. Well..for him at least.
"Is that all (your name)? I would like to-"
(Your name)'s eyes glared onto the screen before laughing out loud. Feliciano still didn't look to happy.
"What is it now (your)-"
"Is is true italians have ties with the mafia?" she began to laugh again. "Wow."
Feliciano poked his friend in the shoulder. (Your name) turned her head to be..extremely close to his. She didn't even know he was there.
"Those things aren'
The blond haired english man looked towards his friend (your name), raising an eyebrow in the process.
"Yes (your name)?"
Without warning, the blond man's eyes widened as (your name) opened his mouth as if trying to seek some buried teasure. She peered into his mouth and stared at his teeth.
"You don't have bad teeth Arthur!"
"Bloody hell woman!?" Arthur turned red, realizing how close her mouth was to his, however the girl in front of him didn't care.
(Your name) pulled out a small notepad and paper and checked something off.
Arthur began to get curious.
"What's that (your name)..?" he asked as calmly as he could. He was beginning to get worried of what she was planning.
"A list." she mumbled, not paying much attention to her british friend.
She looked up at him, her (e/c) eyes shining.
"I'm trying to see if the british stereotypes are real!" she sounded so happy about it.
Arthur didn't like it one bit, but before he could ask, she was blurting out questions.
"Francis, is it true french people drink wine like water?"
The blond haired french-man looked over at his friend (your name), and a smile appeared on his face.
"Well I love za wine~" he laughed. "But non. It's not drunk like water-"
"Is is true french wash less often than others?"
He nearly screamed. Well he did, just in a non-many way.
"Zat is not true (your name)! I love to be clean!" he flipped his hair with a wink, making (your name) smrik and turn back into her seat.
"What are you doing anyway?" Francis peered over his friends shoulder to see 'French Stereotypes' on the screen. He didn't seem to happy about it.
"(Your name) don't tell me your-"
"Is it true french people are rude and racist?"
"NON!" Francis shouted, a little more angry than girly this time.
"Well is it true french always eat frogs all the time?"
Francis sighed, and just answered the questions.
"Zat is not true either."
(Your name) sighed, and began to tap her fingers along the desk. To Francis, he thought it was pr
“(Your name) what are you looking at?” Emil, the white haired Icelandic man asked, while watching his friend shuffle through random sites on the computer. He didn't have the slightest idea why she was at his house, but he didn't care. He rather her be over more than anyone else.
“Just some things to ask you..” (your name) replied, a smile appearing on her face, seeing as she found the site she wanted.
“What do you want to ask me then?” Emil replied questionably, as if ready for some super tricky math question, for something about his brother or-
“Is is true that Iceland has the strongest men and women?” she asked, causing him to rethink over the whole 'tricky math' thing. Emil took a moment to wonder why she even cared about this kind of information.
“That is said by some. But-”
“Is it true male tourists to Iceland can easily get laid?”
Emil raised an eyebrow, showing off on his 'what are you talking about' looks,
"Norwegian's look as if they're soaked in bleach.."
Lukas Bondevik, turned his head to see (first name) (last name) glaring at a computer screen, seemingly talking to herself.
Finding this all to interesting, Lukas peered over, accidentally resting his head on her shoulder, making her gasp and turn to see him.
"Lukas you scared me!" she replied, clicking the minimize button.
"What were you looking at?" he asked, taking the mouse, putting his hand over hers and moving the mouse back to the website she was on. It wasn't really a site though. She was looking up 'Norwegian Stereotypes', and Lukas raised an eyebrow.
(Your name) just let out a sarcastic laugh.
"Can I ask you a few questions then?" she smiled brightly, with Lukas giving her another strange look.
(your name) went right to it, and began to asking questions.
"Does everyone ski in Norway?"
"No." Lukas answered rather quickly. He thought he should maybe speak a little slower.
"Hmm.." (your name) went on. "Is it true that m
"(Name), I wouldn't try it." your Danish friend Matias laughed, while chugging down the last bit of beer in his mug. "He doesn't care."
"Of course he will!" you protested, clicking to the site you were looking at before.
Matias just laughed again, and continued his way into the kitchen in hopes of finding more beer to survive off of.
"He will listen.." you mumble to yourself, scrolling down the page to find different 'Swedish Stereotypes'.
It was or maybe would be the only way to get his attention. You tried before, but it never seemed to work. You'd ask him some questions and maybe have a chance at finally talking to the quiet man.
"Oh Berwald!" you called over, seeing him step in the doorway with Tino and Lukas. "Do you have any time?"
He only nodded his head and grunted, giving you the impression he didn't really care. Biting you lip, you wondered if Matias was right.
"Where's the idiot?" Lukas asked, holding two brown bags mostly filled with beer inside. Probably for Matias.
Hetalia Seven Minutes In Heaven America
You pull out a piece of cheese from the hat. "Yeah this is creative, who's is this?"
"Dude that's totally mine!" America throws the hat at Ukraine, picks you up and locks you two inside the dark closet. "Man, we totally lucked out getting each other huh?" He plopped down on the floor with you still in his arms.
"I guess so, I mean I really wasn't interested in playing, but getting you makes it a little better." You liked America, but there was no way you were just going to out and tell him that.
"A little better? Come on now "_____" You've hurt my feelings… I'm the best, the hero! I'm really glad you picked me, I wouldn't want to be stuck in a dark, cramped closet with anyone else." America snuggled you tight and nuzzled you on the neck. "Besides, I know you like me… Italy told me. He couldn't keep a secret if his life depended on it."
"I have no idea what you're talking about, I never told Italy anything like that…" You were blushing now.
"Really? Because he said that you had
Hetalia AmericaxReader - Stuck in a Box
“Hey, everybody! Let’s play Hide-and-Seek!”
I smiled up at my Prussian friend standing on a nearby tabletop. The crazy albino had just recommended that we all play Hide-and-Seek at one of his famous parties (or, rather, infamous parties). He and his two best friends, Antonio and Francis, claimed to be “it”, and they turned around and began to count.
“C’mon, _____,” said my best friend Alfred. He took my hand and led me upstairs and down a hallway, stopping when we came to an almost empty room. We went inside the room, closing the door behind us, and spotted a large footlocker that was big enough to just barely fit me and Alfred.
“Ladies first,” he said with a smirk.
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Uh, no,” I responded, pushing him toward the footlocker.
He sighed, opening the lid and stepping inside. When he slid into a comfortable position, he smiled at me and said, “C’mon in. The air is fine.
Hetalia EnglandxReader - Stuck In a Box
"Alfred! Where are we going?!" I said as Alfred pushed me along through his gigantic house.
He snickered. "You'll see~!"
I rolled my eyes.
We arrived at a door, which Alfred opened and shoved me into the room, closing and locking the door. It turns out the room wasn't a room-- it was a closet. It was a small, empty closet, barely able to fit two people.
Wait. Two people. . .
I banged my fist on the door. "Alfred Foster Jones! Get me out of this closet, or so help you, I will--"
Before I could say any more, the door opened and Arthur was pushed in. The door closed, pushing Arthur closer to me. I could see his emerald green eyes staring at me through the darkness. My face heated up, and I felt his heat up as well.
"Ah. . . Arthur. . ."
"Oh, _____," he muttered. "H-Hello, love. . ."
"Um. . . Did Alfred drag you in here, too?"
He nodded. "Yes. He didn't even bother explaining to me why."
"Ah. . ."
He didn't know, but I did. Alfred knew about my crush on Arthur; he probably thought t
Hetalia SpainxReader - Stuck In a Box
"Antonio Fernandez Carriedo!"
The Spaniard turned around at the sound of his name being called. His eyes fell upon _____, his best friend for as long as he could remember (excluding Gilbert and Francis, of course). His lips curled up into a happy smile when he saw her-- even though she was glaring daggers at him.
"Hola, bonita," he said with the big grin still on his face. "How have you been?"
"Oh, just fine, thank you," she replied, crossing her arms. There was a razor-sharp edge building in her voice.
"What's the matter, bonita? You okay?"
"Oh, yeah!" She stomped past him angrily, heading inside the house. "Everything's peachy-keen!"
Antonio turned his head in her direction, furrowing his brows. "Bonita?"
_____ stepped into the house where Gilbert and Ludwig (and currently _____) lived, furiously kicking off her shoes after wiping her feet.
"_____! _____!" called a voice frantically from the hallway.
_____ saw Gilbert running toward her with a panicked look on his face.
"What is it,
Hetalia RomanoxReader - Stuck in a Box
“Gil! What the hell are you doing?!”
“You’ll thank me later, Frau!” he said, the smirk on his face evident in his voice, as he carried me over his shoulder up the stairs in his house. He reached the top and went into a room where Antonio and Francis were waiting. The two were sitting on a footlocker, and I could have sworn I heard muffled obscenities come from it.
“Ready?” the albino asked.
The other two nodded, and positioned themselves to get off and open the footlocker. Gilbert took me closer to it and threw me inside the split second they opened the lid. When I was fully inside, they immediately closed the lid and––judging by the clatter following after––locked it.
“What the hell?!” I groaned out, still trying to process everything that had just happened.
I blinked, then peered through the dark to see a familiar face. My eyes widened. “Lovino?!”
“What the hell are
Hetalia PrussiaxReader - Stuck In a Box
I turned my head to see my boyfriend, Gilbert Beilschmidt. He was running toward me with his arms flailing in the air.
"What is it, Gil?" I asked.
"Gilbird's gone missing!" he said, panicked.
"Oh, no! Do you want me to help you look for him?" If it were anyone else's pet, I wouldn't have bothered. But it was Gilbird, and he was just so cute that I had to find him-- and he was my boyfriend's bird, after all.
Gil nodded. "Ja, thanks."
So we looked. And looked. And looked. We looked all through Gil's and Ludwig's house and property, but there was no sign of the little bird. After about an hour of searching, Francis and Antonio came bursting through the front door.
"Hola, mis amigos!" shouted the Spaniard.
"Bonjour, our Prussian friend!"
I straightened up from looking under the couch to look at the duo. "Hey, guys. Now might not be a good time to hang out with Gil. Gilbird's missing."
Francis put his hand to his mouth. "Mon Dieu! That's horrible!"
"Anything we can do?" aske
Hetalia ItalyxReader - Stuck In a Box
". . . Ready or not, here I come!"
At one of Alfred's parties, we all decided to play hide and seek, Alfred, of course, being "it". I ran into one of the back rooms, spotting an unlocked footlocker. After stepping inside it and making myself comfortable, I closed the lid, being careful not to lock it.
Several minutes passed, and I wasn't found by anyone else. A few moments later, I heard someone frantically stagger into the room, closing the door behind them. There was a short pause before the lid to the footlocker opened, leaving me exposed. I wasn't caught, though, because the person standing before me was my cute little red-headed Italian friend, Feliciano Vargas.
"Oh, _____," he stammered. "I didn't know you were in here"
"Yo, Feli~! Where'd you go~?" called Alfred teasingly.
"Eep!" Feli squeaked, jumping into the footlocker with me. The lid closed with a loud slam, pushing Feli down on top of me.
"Feli!" I whispered loudly. "Get out of here! This is my hiding spot!"
Hetalia Seven Minutes In Heaven Canada
You pull a Small bit of stuffing from the hat. "Uh, who's is this?"
"That's actually my bears, who's name I forgot, but it's my item." Canada was standing behind you blushing furiously.
"Well you two had better get in the closet before that bear comes back looking for his fluff!"America walked you two to the closet. "I'll warn you if he shows up." With that you were locked inside the dark closet with Canada. You quickly found a spot in the corner and sat down, hoping to evade him for the seven minutes.
"You probably don't know who I am, so I'll introduce myself." He blushed. "I'm Canada… "
"I know who you are." You had always had a crush on him; of course you would know his name.
"R-really? Wow, that's cool. I know your name too, your "_____" I think it's a really pretty name." He moved a little closer to where you were huddled.
"Thanks, sorry, I'm not good at these kinds of things." You could feel your face growing warm, you had never been so happy it was dark before.
Sexual Tension: England x ReaderWARNING: I swear in this. Get over it, the whole world swears all the time. As I once made an Italian say, “Swearing is good for the soul.”
“I take that as a compliment, stuck up bastard!”
“At least I’m civilized, arse!”
“Well, your language begs to differ!”
“Guys, guys, calm down and listen to the hero’s awesome plan!” America interrupted you and England’s bickering.
But both of you turned to him in a rage and yelled, “FAT ASS!” which effectively sent him away to sulk.
I guess all of you must have been pretty boring, and with you taking care of fighting with England, France was dozing off before you screamed. He groggily opened his eyes, calling out, “I disagree with all of you.”
“SHUT IT, FROG!” you and England yelled again, onl
"Does everyone in america have a gun?"
Alfred F. Jones: also known as America, turned to see his friend (your name), surfing the internet, a keen look in her eyes as she scanned each word on the depicted site she was on.
"Whaa-dude what you readin'?" Alfred just chuckled, hoping she would ignore not getting an answer.
Well that sure wasn't gunna happen.
"Does everyone in america have a gun?" she asked again, earing only a yawn and a stretch from Alfred.
"No (your name), not EVERYONE in america has a gun."
"Okay.." she mumbled, and continued to search on the same sight. A few moments later, while Alfred was chowing down on a tastely hamburger, (your name)'s voice rang through his ears before he could even taste the meat or lettuce.
"What now dude?" he asked, hoping she'd be quick so he could get on with his meal.
"Is it ture that everyone in America eats Macdonald's on an everyday basis?"
Alfred had to think for a moment.
"Nope, dude...why you-"
"Are american people always racist?"
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More