Hetalia x Reader (shorts, bonuses, scenarios and previews)

Bad Boys Are My Weakness (2P!America) 1 of 3 LEMON

(MATURE MATERIAL AHEAD, and by that I mean: SEX, SEX, SEX! Not too graphic but it's still there. YOU'VE BEEN WARNED)

—ONE WEEK EARLIER—

1

Allen threw a French fry, it hit your headband and you reflexively shut your journal as you shot him a glare, "What?"

He shrugged "I said I'll be covering this party—"

"Hey, check it out" Arin tipped her chin over your shoulder.

A brunette in a bomber jacket sauntered past the long line to the lunch lady. He didn't stop moving when he searched for a vacant seat. He looked around and a whip of his head resulted in his eyes locking with yours. Your breath hitched, but he tore his gaze away from yours just as fast as it had landed.

"Why do you think he bothers to come to school here? He should be attending some private institute in England."

You pressed the tip of your Parker pen to your lower lip and answered, "I have no idea" Except you did.

You took much pleasure at how the other girls in the room practically drooled at the mysterious new guy who didn't even spare the resident alpha bitch a glance; considering how Bonnie Bing had Marilyn Monroe's three sizes, Mr. New Kid ignoring her was saying a lot. She purposely dropped a fork in front of him and bent down to give him a full view of her ass in skintight jeans, but he merely sighed in exasperation.

You grinned in silent victory when Bonnie flushed and flipped her hair in a vain attempt to pass it off as nothing. She'd been vying for his attention since the first day he arrived.

"Allen, take a picture. I've decided the bad boy's gonna be my new shower nozzle masturbation material" Arin licked the orange juice on her mouth.

Allen made a face and held his Nikon to his chest. "'Take a picture' would've sufficed. We may be twins but there are boundaries"

You laughed and hit play on your iPod.

All these girls wanted to know what he hid under that brown jacket, to feel his weight on them. What they didn't know was that Mr. Too Cool for Miss Bonnie was fucking you. Just you. Why? Because his heart belonged to you. This wasn't a lovesick girlfriend's exaggeration. Jason Jones already declared his love for you.

But before the cheesy stuff, it started like this:

You were both kids who had seen the hospital way too many times.

Your case was because of a problem with your heart. Jason, on the other hand, was like a mini-gangster in the playground, and that resulted in many broken bones. He used to call you Prissy, because you were (and you quote): "a spoiled little rich girl who didn't deserve the flowers and cards and stuffed toys".

At first you hated him, called him jerkface, but you noticed that he never received any gifts. Or visitors. You offered him a stuffed giraffe, he named it Oliver, because it was the olive branch that gave birth to a beautiful friendship. Secret codes, complicated handshakes you always got wrong, sharing candy. . . Even when a wealthy family adopted him he never stopped visiting.

He was with you when your heart suddenly stopped beating on your fifteenth birthday, carried you to the emergency room and stood guard before your parents arrived. When you woke up he swore that he'd give you his heart when yours stopped working completely.

That was the day you had your first kiss.

You smiled at the memory and tapped your foot to Britney Spears' "Criminal". You looked up from your journal.