hetalia : country x reader

For You - Holy Roman Empire

(*Gross sobbing in the distance*)

You were once a maid in the household just like Hungary, one of your maid-friends. You would help her and the others do the chores in the big mansion. You worked under a young boy, the Holy Roman Empire. One fine day, he dashed towards you, asking a rather unusual question.

"Why are you asking me this?" you cocked an eyebrow.

"You're the only one that can help me face her! Miss Hungary is busy!"

"Das s'cute," you grinned like a Cheshire Cat. The boy was frustrated. "Now help me!" the young boy yelled. He was pretty mature for his age, but a childish kid when it comes to love.

"I don't know, give her flowers?" you shrugged. "Who's the lucky lady by the way?"

"I'm not telling you!" he pointed his index finger at you. "Just tell me!" You raised your hands up. "Okay, okay! Let's see," you pondered. "A simple bouquet of flowers will work. But choose the proper kinds of flowers. You don't just simply take one. Who knows, she might be allergic to some flowers. Next, try to figure what's her favourite kind of stuff. Like for example, maybe a dress? Or a hair clip? Give her a present. Talk to her, like some kind of a get-to-know session. As for this part, if you want to make a move, it's obvious you must confess to her first. If she accepts, then you may give her a kiss. If she rejects, it's up to her," you shrugged. "Does that makes you feel good?"

"I guess. Goodbye!" with that being said, he rushed outside.

"No thank you?" you yelled at him, but he didn't bother to say anything as he was rushing.

. . . .

The young boy from yesterday, known as the Holy Roman Empire sprinted pass you. In his hands held a bouquet of red camellias, a few scarlet petals falling here and there. "Don't make a mess!" You grunted, but your words fell on deaf ears. You peeked from one of the large windows from the household, watching the youngster approached towards a young boy, who you knew as Italy.

As the Holy Roman Empire stood in front of him, he said something you couldn't hear since you were inside. He nervously handed the flowers to him, his blush clearly visible.

"To Italy? Aren't those for a girl?" you thought. Then it dawned on you. You smiled as the young couple stood in the garden, bright, colourful flowers blooming around them.

. . . .

The young child, known as Italy sat alone in the field, staring into the distance. You slowly approached him, sitting beside him.

"I miss Holy Rome," he spoke, aware of your presence. A frown was clearly plastered on his fair face.

"He'll come back, I'm sure of it," you replied.