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"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
"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?
"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?"
"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) 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
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.
"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
“(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,
South Italian Stereotypes...
To say your friend Lovino can get easily angered was an understatement. He'd never admit he was wrong, even if the whole party knew it was his fault.
At least he was nice towards you-and usually just women in general. However as you flipped open your notepad-to reveal your list of 'questions' you were going to ask him-you couldn't help but feel that it was going to end badly.
It was tough to find the few questions you had, but it was definetly worth it. Knocking on Lovino's door, he opened it with a wide mouth like he was expecting someone he didn't like.
"Oh..it is you (Name)." he mumbled, crossing his arms. "You may come in."
"Thanks." you smiled and poked his nose, not watching him blush and rub it as you walked in.
"S-so..why are you here anyway?" he asked, his arms still crossed and his foot tapping like he hadn't much time and needed to be somewhere.
"I have some things I'd like to ask you."
"Pfft. Why?" he asked, not even giving you a chance to state what 'kind' of questions.
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 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
You were just reading a book in your cosy living room when your ring tone began to echo through the room.
"Hello?" You asked.
"Hi-a ____!" You heard the familiar Italian accent of your boyfriend speak.
"Hi Feli. How are you?" You giggled.
"I am good bella! I was-a wondering if you wanted to come over tonight?" Feli eagerly asked.
"I'd love to Feli." You replied.
"Great! Come-a over at-a seven!" He exclaimed.
"Sure I'll see you there." You laughed.
"Ti amo bella!" He replied.
"I love you too Feli." You sighed as you hung up the phone.
You loved your Italian boyfriend with all your heart. He was just a bog ball of cuteness, he would always buy you flowers and call you bella. Even if you had to comfort him during a scary movie or after a day training with Ludwig, you still found it adorable. You both even had adopted a kitten together, although it mostly live over at Feli's house. You both still loved taking care of it together.
But lately Feliciano has been acting a little stand off-ish.
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 Seven Minutes In Heaven Italy
America took his place in the center of the room and rubbed his chin. "Let me see here dudes, who should I pick to go next?" He narrowed his eyes as he fixed them on you. "You dude, you're definitely the one. Get up here."
"You got it." Hoping out of your seat, you made your way up front and reached into the hat, swirling your hand around to mix up the items. You then felt for the nearest thing to your hand, and pulled it out. It was a mushroom of all things. "Umm, a mushroom? Who would put that in here?"
"Oh, that's-a me-a!" I have such good luck, getting such a pretty girl!" Italy jumped off of the couch and grabbed your hand, excitedly dragging you into the closet.
America followed you two over and began closing the door. "Have fun you two! Remember, only seven minutes now." He smiled as he shut the door completely and locked it from the outside.
Italy gave you no time at all before wrapping his arms around your wais
Hetalia GermanyxReader - Stuck In a Box
"Ugh," groaned Gilbert as he downed the rest of his drink. "I'm so bored!"
"Well, this is your party, mon ami," chided his best friend Francis. "We should do something entertaining."
"Oh! I know!" said Gilbert's other best friend, Antonio. "Let's play Hide-and-Seek!"
"Good idea!" Gilbert climbed onto a tabletop. "Everybody! I've got a cure for all of your boredom! We'll play Hide-and-Seek!"
_____, hearing her friend's announcement, put down her drink and smiled. "That sounds like fun!"
"Seriously?" said her boyfriend, Ludwig, with a raised eyebrow. "Games are for kleine Kinder."
"C'mon, Luddy!" _____ took his hand, making him blush. "We all need to take time to play. Loosen up!"
Ludwig sighed. He could never say no to her. "Alright, schatz. I'll play one game."
_____ pumped her fist in the air. "Yes! Hey, Gil! Luddy and I'll play!"
"Awesome! Alright, peeps! You go hide! Toni, Francis, and I'll be it! Go!" And with that, the Bad Touch Trio turned around, covered their eyes
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
Romano X Reader - Wake Up CurlRomano X Reader Wake Up Curl
You approach the Italian's bed slowly, singing out his name in an attempt to wake him up. It doesn't work.
"Hmph," you look down at Lovino and smile at how sweet he looks when he's asleep. Today he's sleeping so deeply that he hardly even stirs when you shake his shoulder.
"Loviiii! Come on! It's already midday and you said we could go to the park together," you whine, sitting next to him on his warm bed and feeling the sun's heat shining in through his window. It was a gorgeous day outside and if it weren't for your horrible sense of direction, you'd already be out soaking up the sunshine, maybe eating ice-cream or drinking an ice-cold milkshake these thoughts make your mouth water and you really begin to notice the uncomfortable level of heat within the confines of Lovino's house. Outside, there's a nice spring breeze while in here, there's just a sticky humidity that's driving you insane.
You shake your Italian friend
"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'
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