Fandom Imagines

Jealousy (Arthur England x Reader)

Written by -novas

That heartbreaking moment constantly replayed in England's mind. You'd think he would get over it in a month or so, but the stubborn Brit held onto it. He had let all of his foolish anger from the stress on you, who hadn't been the true source of his rage.

Today was a world meeting, the first of July, to be exact. It was the first one since your breakup, and neither you nor England were exactly "thrilled" to be here.

You sat as far from England as you could, besides France. He wouldn't dare come near you because of his problems with France. It was a cruel plan, you first thought, but you soon got over it.

Although, you hated France almost as much as England did.

"Ohonhon, ma cherie~." The flirty France leans over to you, his golden locks gleaming as bright as his pearly white smile. You had to admit, he was attractive physically, but not your kind of attractiveness. You avoid his gaze, turning the opposite direction.

France pauses in shock and frowns. He sighs and scoots closer to your ear. "I would never treat you like that jerk Britain. You could be my queen." He whispers, wrapping an arm around you. You shudder as he tells you this.

This was all strange because France never acted this way around you. You and France were more friends than anything else, much less lovers. So, why was he acting this way?

France's eyes shift to across the room. It fell right on England, who was sitting uncomfortably in his chair with both fists clenched tightly.

England was jealous.

Catching France's motives, you decide to play along. After all, it was amusing to see England teem with envy.

You snuggle against France, as he smirks. England restrains himself to the chair as he squirms to escape this. "I think I am in love with you, Y/N." France states loud enough for everyone to hear, with a reaction of groans and joy from the other countries.

England stuffs a scone into his own mouth to stop him from yelling at France for talking to you. England didn't want France to lay another finger on you, even if you and England weren't together. He knew you deserve better.

Just then America comes prancing into the room, and stops dead when he sees you and France. His mouth hangs wide open with raised eyebrows as he lazily points a finger at the two of you. "Aww are you two lovebirds a thing now?" He questions, clasping his hands together in a romantic way, then laughing awkwardly.

England growls. "No. They are not. France needs to learn what personal space is." He stood up from his chair, earning stares from the surrounding countries. France didn't seem too shocked, rather he smirks and leans lazily back in his chair.

"Ohonhon- she didn't seem uncomfortable like I intruded." France points to you, as you try to hide your surprised expression.

England rolls his eyes in an unamused fashion. "You can just read from Y/N's facial expressions she doesn't like this! Unlike you, I can actually feel for Y/N and can consider her emotions rather than my own, you git." At this moment all eyes in the room were glued onto the three of you, mostly on you specifically. Among his current rage, there was pain in his eyes.

You couldn't stand this anymore. You push France away and wrap your hands around the side of the chair and stand up. "I'm sorry, I can't stay here any longer." You catch a quick glance of England, and rush out of the room. England and France stood watching, both gaping with regret. This fighting between France and Britain was terrible, and you didn't want to be the cause of it.

You crash, falling against a wall. Tears begins staining your cheeks, as you cover your face with your hands, muffling your sobbing. This fighting would never had happened if you weren't there, but then again, was it really all your fault?

Some clicks came from the hallway in front of you. You whip your gaze up to see nothing there. It must've been your own imagination.

Then you felt a cold hand on your shoulder. You flinch, only to see England with a sorrowful expression. He offers his left to hand to you. It lingers in the air, and with hesitation you take it. He helps you up.

"I can't believe that bloody idiot caused all of this." England mumbles, tears resting on the brims of his eyes as well. You sniffle, and wrap your arms around England's warm body. Oh, how you missed his warmth. He reacts with a flinch, but rests his head on your shoulder.

A shade of crimson appears on your face. "I'm sorry England. I shouldn't have encouraged him." England hugs you tighter, shaking his head.

"No. He would've done this despite your actions. It was my fault. Y/N we should've never broken up, I'm sorry. I missed the days where I would wake up to your beautiful eyes and smile, and how you would always cheer me up after a world meeting. That one time- I just snapped- it was never you. I hated seeing you with France, how he just wanted to use you for my misery. Yes, Y/N I was jealous!" He stops for a moment and sobs, choking on his words.

"Please love, be mine again?"