Yandere Hetalia Scenarios

{America/Reader} Drugging, Sickness

{It's been too long, hasn't it? My apologies, loves, this past while hasn't been pleasant. But alas, I shall continue writing these atrocious works, and to start off my newfound end of hiatus, I present something written at 2am after a break down. Please enjoy!}

29th May
I didn't mark down the time ffs
Need

"You sure you want to go out?"

Alfred asked with faux concern, sliding smoothly from his position of leaning on the counter with his head in his hands, walking up to you with a soft, caring smile and a swish in his hips.

"You're still recovering, right? Maybe it's best you stay inside, just for one more day."

You mull it over in your head, thinking back to this morning when you were still in pain from the nasty virus you had caught, the heaving cough you let out as your eyes adjusted to the sun light streaming in from a crack in your curtains an immediate thought.

You give Alfred a smile back, nodding to him, deciding that maybe your roommate was right, staying in for one more day couldn't hurt.

Jones seemed delighted, clapping his hands together and almost beaming.

"Good, I'm glad!"

He says cheerily, taking the coat from your hands and hanging it up with no real concentration on his actions, far too busy looking and talking to you.

"Why don't you go lay up in bed and I'll fix you something to drink?"

You gave him your thanks, leaning in and giving him a grateful hug before leaving off to your room, slipping off the bag you were going to take.

Alfred hums a happy tune to himself as he heats up something nice for you, dishing out your favourite mug and adding a cute little coloured, paper straw in for your drinking pleasures.

"Mustn't forget the special ingredient."

He says to himself as a reminder, turning on his heel and reaching for a cupboard, shifting a few various things aside and pulling a small, glass bottle from the back.

It has a label which was covered in crudely scribbled marker, covering up it's name and contents, only leaving the measurement of weight on the side in small writing.

He unscrews the lid, ever so carefully lifting the bottle and dripping a few droplets of whatever was inside into your drink.

The 'special ingredient', was the real cause for your sickness in the beginning, and now that you were getting better Alfred thought it a great time to top up your dosage again.

He did it because he wanted you to stay at home, with him, let him care for you and be there on your every call.

He didn't want you to be with anyone else, he wanted you all to himself, and he knew this was a perfect way to do it.

The contents of the bottle, the virus he was feeding you, would start out like a common fever or cold, but with added dosages it would grow, until it left you unable to function on your own properly.

You'd need him, you'd always need him, and he needed you. Without you, he was an empty husk of a person, his life colourless and bland, stale bread on his sand paper tongue.

He desired you, he wanted you, he needed you. And he made sure you felt the same.

You'd never need anyone else.

All you'd need, was Alfred.