TalentedHetalia

{{ ok so I haven't written any fanfiction! let alone reader inserts! for aaagesssssss mainly because I absolutely suck at writing! also because wow I have actually no motivation. none. in fact, the only reason I write this is because the majority of germany x reader stories are kind of awful, and mischaracterize him awfully. so here I am. I really love germany and so I've studied his character and how to write him a lot, and now it's paid off. the other reason I wrote this was because in a lot of sick!reader stories, they're portrayed way prettier than they should be, because when ur sick ur not pleasing to look at, I'm sorry. so here it is,

She fell in love with him through his clocks. They were the first thing that caught her eye in the market her first day in Bern. It was not the smells that wafted through the crowded streets that called to her; it was not the lively music that attracted her attention; no, it was the lacquered brown of a cuckoo clock that drew her (e/c) eyes to his wares. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Soft, in sync beating of the internal gears beckoned her closer. There were other clocks, too—silver pocket watches meant for those richer than she. The closer her feet took her to his stall, the faster her heartbeat went. When she was at his stall at last, a

Blood pounded out a steady rhythm in her head. It was as if her own heartbeat had become a drum. She'd always hated drums. It was a strange first thought to have. So, as she stared up at a blurred gray something, the young woman decided to think back to what she'd been doing. Her memory was fogged, but if she concentrated, or if she could sit up and get a better look at where she was... Her fingers landed on the strap of a large bag. That was right. She'd been traveling through the Whisper Woods. It was the quickest way to reach the kingdom of Fahsula, and she had been ordered to carry a message there. She was still in the woods, judging by

~City Angel~ Alfred awoke with a start. He had thought that the medication that his psychiatrist had prescribed to him would have lasted him throughout the entire night. Not this time. He wouldn’t have even been surprised if the plastic-like red and white capsule pills he took twice a day were placebos. As he waited for his heartbeat to drop down to a slow and even pulse, he stared at the ceiling that was cast a dark teal-shaded blue from the lights just about to turn off to greet the morning. He hated this city. He hated the people, the noise, the jobs, everything. His breathing easing up, Alfred noticed he could do a little illusio

Notɧiƞg. –Prussia x Deaf!Reader [I wanted words…] Speaking. An idea entirely conceptual to you, and yet you loved it. You loved the way a pair of cracked lips danced gracefully across a vowel, the way a tongue curled around a letter. The words enticed you, but the magic in them faded once a pencil scratched one onto paper. You wanted to hear the fast hiss of the ‘H’, you wanted to pronounce the tonal sound of the ‘A’. The moving of lips choked you, drowned you in the taunting closeness. Other people spoke and screamed and sang like it was natural-and yet it was natural, but you weren’t.