Hetalia Oneshots (Book One)

Iceland X Reader: Fucking Hormones {Lemon}

So, you guys know the fucking fanfiction called The Danish Slaughterhouse right? The Nordic Five & Sealand one? Yeah, so you know how it's just one of those Hetalia things we don't talk about, like HetaOni? Yeah. I decided that it couldn't be that heart breaking, so I read it. I give you all permission to kill me now. Of all the completely uncool shit I've seen with this FUCKING FANDOM, THAT WAS THE MOST UNCOOL-EST! FUCK! LIKE!? FUCKING RAPE MY SEA BBY?! ATTEMPT TO RAPE MY ICEY!? I STOPPED READING RIGHT THERE CUS I HAD CHORES TO DO, BUT OMFG! WHY DID I DECIDE TO READ THIS SHIT!? I CANT EVEN LISTEN TO DENMARKS THEME ANYMORE! FUCK!

Anyways, I'm heartbroken and mourning so I'm gonna write smut for Icey about teenage hormones, because I can. OOC alert btw...

***

Groaning in complete annoyance, you hit the glowing red button on your phone screen.

Lukas needs a baby sitter for his precious little brother... and you're legit the same age as him. You're in the same fucking classes as him (you have no clue how, but you two got all seven periods together)!

He's sixteen fucking years old, and Lukas still gets him a baby sitter. There's just something a bit too overprotective in that...

Whatever, it's you who's getting paid.

You continue to lie on your couch for a few moments, before sighing loudly, and rolling off.

Literally, rolling off and onto the floor.

Laying there, you glare at the combat boots sitting by the door, taunting you.

Those stupid fucking boot know you don't wanna get up... they fucking know, and they're rubbing it in your face. Stupid boots...

You finally get the motivation to push yourself up from the floor, stumbling over to the shoes, pulling them on lazily.

You probably should put in the effort to get changed, but really, what's the point? So you go in an old tank top and sweatpants, who's gonna judge you? The dude who still gets babysat?

Yeah. Unlikely.

Running your hands through your hair, you fling the closet door open, digging around for a sweater.

You groan when you can't find a matching sweatshirt, but decide to fuck it all, grabbing the one your hand is on and storming out of the house.

The walk to the Bondevik house is short enough, considering you've lived on the same street as them your whole life.

Now that you're thinking about it... you and Emil were best friends for a while.

You two were inseparable as toddlers, and if it weren't for him being so antisocial, you two probably wouldn't have lost contact for those few years of school between third grade and sixth.

If you're honest, you've liked him for a long while... he's freaking adorable, with an uncanny mixture of hotness.... it's odd how quickly he can go from flawless god, to a little angel.

Once middle school started, you guys started hanging out again. Never at school, considering you could never seem to find him in between classes, or even at lunch... anyways, you two would hang out after school, watching stupid horror movies and eating licorice.

You can kind of consider yourselves friends. Maybe one day you'll even make it back to best friends, and that's why Lukas decided you'd be a great sitter. For a sixteen year old.

Emil's house in sight, you jog the last few feet to the door, replacing your frown with a peppy smile and knocking out a little tune on the stained oak.