Hetalia Fanfiction Collection!

One Night At The Bar - Nyo!America x Reader [FOURTH OF JULY SPECIAL]

HELLO EVERYONE! AND HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY :D

To celebrate America's birthday, I've written my first Nyotalia fic!~

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They were strangers, regulars at a bar downtown. They never spoke; they wouldn't even pass each other second glances. Then, one night, the night of her birthday, Amelia was stood up. She went to the only place she could think of: that bar downtown. She walked in, finding that it was empty except for two or three people. She plopped down on a stool at the bar, head in hands, eyes close to tears. She couldn’t even breathe right. She really cared about Julchen. How could the Prussian just…not show up?

“What’ll it be?” The bartender, her friend, Marianne asked, not noticing the American’s distress. 

“Any kind of beer cocktail,” Amelia croaked, trying to cover it up with a fake cough and a quick smile. “Preferably something that has a lot of alcohol.”

Marianne nodded, her friend’s weird actions confusing her. “Right away, mon amie.”

As soon as Marianne has walked down the bar, out of ear shot, Amelia slumped back down in her seat, sighing sadly. How could Julchen stand her up? They were dating long distance for almost a year and a half, and they hadn’t seen each other in over six months, so how? Amelia pulled her phone out to check if maybe her beloved had called or texted saying she was going to be late, but Amelia had waited two hours at the restaurant, so she doubted it. And her doubt was correct. Not one single message from Julchen. Amelia let out another sigh, putting her phone down and her head in her right hand. 

Just then, the bell above the front door chimed, signaling someone had walked in. The (h/c)-woman who came in also sat at the bar, but three seats away from Amelia. Marianne had also just finished Amelia’s cocktail, walking over and handing it to her. Amelia nodded in thanks.

“You need to chug it. If you don’t, it’ll curdle,” Marianne commented, winking. Amelia lifted her glass of dark liquid and foam to her French friend as if to toast and began to chug. While the American was busying herself, Marianne went to take the (h/c)-haired woman’s order, but she was too busy staring intently. When Amelia finished, she set down the glass, letting out a sound of relief. The alcohol had already gotten to her halfway through with the drink, hitting her over her head like someone had hit her with a frying pan. It felt good to have a cocktail burn her throat, though. 

“I’ll take what she just had,” the (h/c)-haired woman pointing to Amelia with a jab of her thumb. Marianne nodded, heading off to make the cocktail. 

“Amelia!” Marianne called while making the Irish Car Bomb the second time that night. 

“Hm?” Amelia looked over to her friend across the bar.

“Why are you here on your birthday? I thought you had a date with Julchen.”

Amelia sighed again. There it was; that tight pain in her chest, that breaking of her heart. “She didn’t show,” Amelia murmured, barely above a whisper. Marianne hadn’t caught it, but the (h/c)-haired woman had. She got up from her seat and sat in the one right next to Amelia’s.

“I’m sorry your date didn’t show,” she commented.

Amelia hesitated at the sudden apology. “Thanks, I guess,” she muttered.

“I’m _____, by the way,” the woman introduced herself. Amelia wasn’t in the mood to meet new people, but she didn’t want to come off as rude, so she introduced herself as well.