HetaliansUniteHere

Get away for a while Here I am out on my own again Won’t blame it on myself Yeah I’ll blame it on the weatherman CONTENT ADVISORY: Brief innuendo, graphic depictions of a verbal fight, graphic depictions shattered dishes and glasses, mentions of blood, implied accident “One last step before I finally get out of this damn gown,” (Reader) said, ducking into the backseat of Bonnie’s car. The Suburban lent itself well to doubling as a dressing room for Bonnie’s Disney Princess party business, allowing performers to change immediately after performances came to a close. Under the seat hatches were reserved for

 A lone figure stood on a beach.  He felt the sand between his feet. Cold ocean waves crashed down onto his legs. He looked down at the bubbly water and giggled happily.  He loved swimming and playing in the ocean, despite the water being relatively cold around this time of year.  It would become warmer soon though, so he was looking forward to that. He was a small child, with un-kept dark brown hair, with a little curl sticking to his side.  His eyes were bright brown and they sparkled mischievously. Suddenly, he noticed something in the clear azure water he was standing in.  A little fish was swimming in the water, nibbling at his feet.

 “Peter!” The young boy turned around at the sound of his name––only to be tackled by his friend. “_____!” he said as he attempted to sit up. “You’re supposed to hide when you play Hide-and-Seek!” The ten-year-old beamed at the twelve-year-old below her. “But I missed you!” Peter couldn’t help but laugh at her innocence, and he patted her head. “Alright. How about we go inside?” “Okay!” _____ got to her feet, along with Peter, and headed inside. “Hiya, little dudes!” said Alfred as the two walked into the living room. He sat

I turned the key in the lock and opened the door. To my horror, I saw my friend, Antonio, lazily sitting on my couch. Observing the surroundings, I immediately noticed the mess he made. There was a pile of crumpled papers beside him, and it looks like he's too preoccupied with what he's writing to see and hear me open the door. Didn't I tell him to keep my house clean while I'm gone? As quiet as possible, I tiptoed to the back of the couch. Once I stood behind him, I peeked at what he's currently scribbling. With my eyes widened, I realized that he's actually writing a letter. It's not just any kind of letter, it's a love letter! But, ther

Meatballs. It was that time of year; meatballs were made all the time in Sweden's house. _____ was now in the kitchen and was getting ready to dump the meat into a bowl. "What’re you doing?" Sweden asked behind you causing his wife to jump in fear. "I'm making meatballs." You looked at your husband who seemed to look at you with a "why" expression. (Or at least that's what you thought.) "Because you always do things for me, so I thought it would be nice to return the favor." You continued blushing lightly.  Sweden was surprised, (though his face didn't show it.) He didn't know about what he did for you. The flowers he "finds", the

"Carry me," you demanded. "Excuse me?" Vash stated as he turned to face you. "Carry me," you repeated. "No thank you," he scoffed as he continued to trek. "Why not!" you whined. "My feet hurt!" Vash had though it would've been a wonderful idea to trek through a mountain today. Lucky for you it wasn't one from his native country or Switzerland. Instead it was a small inclined slope. Barely even classified as a mountain. About half way up it, you decided to see how long Vash's patience would last. "You're acting like a spoiled brat," he insulted as he turned to face you. "I know you are but what am I?" you childishly stammered. "Now you

You Broke My Mistletoe TurkeyxReader "Buon Natale, (F/n)!" Feliciano greeted you as he walked through the door. He was tightly bundled in many layers of winter clothes, while the tall German behind him only had a few. Grinning, you embraced the small Italian and placed a light kiss on both of his cheeks. "Merry Christmas, Feli," you said warmly, "And Ludwig." The giant man leaned down so you could peck his cheek as well. The German blushed and mumbled something along the lines of, "Frohe Weihnachten." Still smiling, you stood by the door and greeted each guest as they shuffled in. Many languages saying "Merry Christmas" filled your e

"(F/n)." "Mama." "You're up past your bedtime." "So are you." Ukraine, your mother, laughed. "I don't have a bedtime anymore!" "Then why do I have one?" you said, pouting adorably. "Because you're too young. When you get older, you can stay up later." "But-" "If you go to bed now, I'll sing 'Котику Cіренький'1 for you." You looked up sharply. That was your favorite lullaby from your childhood. You wanted to stay up late, but you wanted your mother to sing to you, too. You could only have one… You looked at your mother and held up your arms, silently

You were sat on your father’s lap, listening to him regale the story of ‘The Three Little Pigs’ for the third time that night. It was quite obvious that you were exhausted, but you were loath to fall asleep, since your father, Wales, had to leave for a business trip tomorrow. Apparently, he had to travel to England to speak with his brothers, England, Scotland, and Ireland, over a new law that was going to be passed. So, you wanted to spend as long as possible with him. Wales brushed a piece of his messy hair behind his ear and read the final line of the book. After he had, he closed it softly and placed it on the table nex