A Hetalia Fanfiction
Forever Hetalian Fangirl
“Aaah, hitofude de, miru subarashii sekai…” You sang the words of the ending song as you closed your eyes, imagining every scene ever created in Hetalia, your hand looping and swaying through the air as you did, as if you were conducting it. “Nagagutsu de kanpai da…”
Putting some effort into the last couple of words, you smiled cheerily and let out one last shout of: “Hetalia!” Then you let out an exhausted cheer as episode 10 of the first season was ended.
“… Now… on to the next episode.” You glanced up at the clock. It was already 10:42 PM, but that didn’t really matter… it was the Saturday, after all, and you’d been waiting all the week to be able to just lie back, relax, and watch Hetalia all day. Well, not all day--there were still other things to do, such as the terrible amount of homework that your teachers had given you over the weekend and the chores that were lying around the house. But this was your day to enjoy.
“Watchting Hetalia... All day, every day.” You had practically memorised the series by now, but that didn’t mean you had to stop re-watching it--it was a good anime and full of good humour. Your parents saw it as an obsession—you saw it as a mere entertainment. Perhaps you did obsess over it just a bit too much, but you were glad that you were sane.
After all, who didn’t get encouraged to in social studies after watching Hetalia? It didn’t teach you everything, of course—but it was a form of encouragement.
You loved Hetalia; it was your favourite anime, and if you could have only one source of information and entertainment? Your laptop. Internet was all you needed. Fanfiction, doujinshi, deviantART, and anime—it had it all.
The one problem—your parents didn’t like Hetalia that much.
It’s… getting late… You took the chance to look at the clock one more time as the advertisement on Youtube was playing before episode 11. Maybe I should get to bed. Mom’s been upset these days… about me, of course.
Of course. She was always upset at you about one thing or another, but mainly she kept nagging at you to stop watching Hetalia. She didn’t like it because she thought you spent too much time with it, and it kept you away from your parents and your real life. Was that why you didn’t have very many friends?
“Well, I can still… watch one last episode. It’s only five minutes long,” you assured yourself. “Only five minutes… then I’ll be in bed by 10:50. That’s right. C’mon, I just need to watch this next part! No way I’m going to leave off on a cliffhanger!”
No. No way. Even if you just had to watch one more episode, then that’s what you’d do. Just watch one episode, and then you’d be in bed in the next ten minutes… that was all!
You still weren’t asleep. You were glued to the screen completely, your eyes watching every moment of action, every movement by the characters. It’s so awesome…
Who couldn’t like Hetalia? Who couldn’t love all those stereotypical, personified countries? The manga was beautifully drawn, and the anime was plain hilarious. Who couldn’t enjoy Hetalia except for your parents? It was a great thing—a fun source of entertainment.
“Marukaite chikyuu, marukaite chikyuu…” You quickly opened up another window as you listened the ending song, singing from memory. Even without paying attention, you could sing the lyrics by heart. “Marukaite chikyuu, boku Hetalia…”
Opening up Google Chrome, you searched “hetalia fanfiction reader insert”. This was the life. You had Internet. You were alone in your room. There were endless possibilities. Your parents weren’t here to nag you to stop watching your favourite anime, and they definitely could not stop you from reading Hetalia fanfiction. You were lucky that your parents weren’t that nosy, and they didn’t sneak up on you and secretly watch Hetalia behind your back. If they had, there was always the possibility that they would screen the whole anime, every episode, and immediately ban you from anime if they managed to catch the many inappropriate jokes that was practically the base of the show’s humour.
And at least they don’t even read the manga…
Oh, yes. If they’d seen the part about Italy’s “g-spot”, then you’d certainly be dead in a matter of seconds. But now? There was no one to stop you from enjoying the rest of your night.
You plugged in your headphones to your laptop and began to read a fanfiction that had popped up somewhere down the list. It was a deviantART fanfiction.
As you skimmed through it, scrolling down the pages, you began to think, as usual, about what it would be like if you could be part of the Hetalian universe. Aah, yes… it would be heavenly.
Absolutely amazing. It would be fantastic if you could be part of their world. To be involved in every bit of action, to be there to support your favourite characters in their time of need and in times of war. Things definitely couldn’t be better if you were there, with those people, those countries. You wanted to be there with them, and even if that meant leaving this life, then that would be fine with you.
But... on a more serious note... Hetalia wasn't real. You shook your head at yourself for thinking this. "__________," You said aloud to yourself, "Come on. It's not like the countries are going to materialise out of nowhere. Snap out of it." You gulped, gazing around the darkened room as you muttered to yourself, "It's just... an anime. I can't leave my real life for an anime life that doesn't exist."
But still... I wonder… what would it be like? At this point, you couldn’t suppress a yawn. It was nearly the middle of the night, and you supposed it would be good for you to get some sleep. Surely… it would be very interesting… living with the Hetalia men...
I believe in Hetalia. A firm thought rang through your mind. I believe in it. It’s wonderful, and I’m glad I have it. I want to meet the countries someday… I believe in them… I believe in them…
Without another word, you stumbled over to your bed, leaving the computer on and crashing into the mound of warm sheets. Someday… You promised yourself. I’ll be someone great like the countries. Someday… I’ll figure out a way to keep them alive. They may not be real, but my imagination can make them real. Just… Believe…
Oh, what the heck, __________. Things like this don't exist.
But still, as you drifted off to sleep, the last thing that crossed your mind was that you could make them real. "I-I can... if I just... believe."
“__________! Wake up! Psst—you!” Someone was hissing whispers into your ear, shaking your shoulder as you moaned, turning about in frustration. “Get up. I have something to tell you.”
“H-Hmm? Wh-What time is it?” It was Sunday, for God’s sake. You didn’t need to get up until you wanted to. “L-Leave me… alone…”
Really. Couldn’t anyone leave you alone? You turned in your blankets and tries to snuggle deeper into the soft, inviting mattress. “I-I have to sleep… more… Got school on Monday…”
“No! This is an emergency!” It was a male voice. What, now your father was trying to wake you up for no particular reason? What was this emergency…? You supposed you couldn’t say no to him, especially if it was something of urgency.
“F-Fine… just let me… get up…” You sat up, blinking in the dark. Everything was a blur for a moment, and you couldn’t quite see (you had been staring at a bright monitor all night, of course). And then your eyes adjusted…
“Holy shoot!” You scrambled away from the tall, looming figure before you. You couldn’t quite see his face, but from what you could make of him, he was a tall, buff man… with gelled-back blonde hair and a black tank top… You let out a harsh whisper: “Wh-Who are you?! D-Did you break into my bedroom?!” Your hand reached for the lamp beside you on your nightstand. “G-Get out!”
This had to be a break in—an intrusion! Who could’ve gotten into your bedroom?! Was he going to hurt you? Kill you? Or perhaps kidnap you?
Your eyes trailed over to the bedroom window, which you now saw was wide open, the white curtains fluttering in the breeze of the warm nighttime air. “N-No way… that window—it wasn’t open when I went to bed…! Y-You must have forced it open!”
That man… he somehow seemed familiar to you, in some way that you couldn’t place…
“No, please. Calm down. J-Just be quiet, for one moment.” The voice spoke with a distinct German accent. That voice was quite familiar as well, but in your frenzied state of panic, you had no room for thinking. But you silenced yourself, convincing your racing mind that if this man was a thief, it was better to obey him than to risk death. Or was it supposed to be the other way around? Were you supposed to shout for help? “Listen to me. I don’t have much time here tonight. Take this letter, Fraulein.”
Something was pressed into your hands, and you gasped as the tips of his fingers brushed against your sweaty palms after he had bestowed the envelope upon you. “A-A letter? Wh-What’s inside it?”
“I have no time to explain.” Now you could see—bright blue eyes, serious and grim, glinting at you in the moonlight. “I must go immediately, I am sorry I cannot stay and tell you what is going on. Decide by tomorrow night, fraulein.”
"W-Wait... what do you mean to decide?! S-Sir!" You let out a hoarse croak, begging for answers. He looked down at you sadly, not knowing what to say.
"I'm sorry. Please, listen to what I said and think about it. Decide."
You heard the creaks of his footsteps moving to leave the room as you stared down at your blankets, not knowing what was going on as you gasped and panted in shock and horror. What's happening to me...?
You shut your eyes tightly, the damp, cold sweat pouring down your cheeks… and then you opened your eyes. The man was gone, back out the window, apparently.
You didn’t dare gaze out the window to see.
“Th-This letter…” You turned it over in your hands, your interest rising, but you were somewhat suspicious as well. This intruder had just climbed through your window and handed you a letter. What was the sense in that? Should you open it? Throw it away? Call the police?
It was a wrinkled, dirty, and thick envelope made of rough paper--it was faded and yellow, stained with dirt and mud. You wrinkled your nose as your lifted it, tearing open the flap--no.
You didn't quite want to open the letter yet, with the possibility of there being something dangerous in it... You turned it over instead, expecting there to be at least a name you could read.
“O-Oh my God!”
Now you understood.