Little!GermanyxReader: Boats and BirdsWARNING! May cause intense "AWWS" and Diabetes. Nosebleeds at the ends.Everyong calls you by your country name besides Ludwig, who calls you by your human name.I really hope you enjoy ^^!~~~ You were one of Prussia's maids. The cocky empire had taken over your country and forced you into servitude. But being his maid wasn't all that bad, his little seven year old brother Ludwig seemed to have taken a liking towards you. And God was that youngster adorable! Ludwig had blonde hair, icy blue eyes, and came up to about your waist. And he had this adorable habit of following you E
England X Reader: My Last BreathHold onto me, loveYou know I can't stay longAll I wanted to say was "I love you" and "I'm not afraid..."Slowly, your mind drifted to the surface of consciousness. A rhythmic, shuddering, rocking motion cocooned your body. You felt the soaked collar of your shirt sticking to your shoulders and the base of your neck, and more sickeningly warm, thick liquid pooling at your collarbone. Four fingers were pressing a scrap of cloth against the side of your throat, a futile attempt to stem the flow of liquid.In an instant, it all came back to you.The hill. The climb. The fall. The sharp stick. The sudden gush. Then darkness.Arthur had you
EnglandXReader: The Lost Lady Found Prolouge_________ breathed in the soft, clean smell of the flower-filled valley. She loved this little valley. She had come here with her mother to pick flowers or to have picnics with her father. When they were alive, that was. The pleasant memories filled her soul along with the bright "kil-eet! kil-eet!" of the sparrows in the trees. Smiling widely, she set down the woven basket that had been resting in the hook of her arm. A few of the violets spilled out. The sun warmed ________'s (h/c) hair, let down out of its usual twist. The smell of the grass; the lingering morning mist; the vibrant colors of the flowers; the sweet melodies of the
| EnglandXSick!Reader - The Notebook | Ch2CHAPTER 2 GHOSTSSilence in the room.There wasn't a sound as you lay on your bed envisioning sweet thoughts of nothing into the quiet air. Thoughts about life
who you were
where you were
who was Arthur.
Kirkland?Had you remembered him, you would not be sitting and wondering, rather, you'd be sitting beside your beloved husband and retelling the story of your past. Yes, the old Notebook, otherwise known as the journal of Arthur Kirkland. Your story, written in his words, that was all he wanted you to know."I fancy you would like for me to read my article here, love."And there was Arthur, stand