Miscellaneous Hetalia One-Shots

Warm Sun - Spain x Reader

A/N: Art is not mine.

You walked through the streets of the city, your flip flops making their "flip-flop" noise. The rays of the sun felt wonderful against your bare legs. It was fall, but the Spanish sun didn't rest often.

The streets smelled of food inside of the various restaurants scattered across, and the noise of cars driving by and people talking filled your ears. There was even a sound of music in the distance, probably from someone trying to make a bit of money off their talents. Their playing was wonderful, you could tell even from as far away as you were, but seeing as the sun was about to set, you really needed to get to your destination.

The familiar apartment building you were searching for soon came into view. It was very tall, much like the surrounding structures, and it was made of the warm, brown stone that you so loved the look of. There were balconies across the front, some were vacant, some had drying clothes on them, and a few had people standing on them. One such person was smoking, filling your sense of smell with the signature stench of cigarettes.

Really, why do people even do that?

No matter, your lungs were filled with a different aroma as soon as you opened the door to the first floor of the building. It smelled of... doughnuts. Or maybe cake. Something like that; you couldn't really tell. 

The wonderful scent only grew stronger as you climbed the stairs, and you started to be increasingly suspicious that the place you were headed to was the source of it. You wouldn't be surprised, there was usually a treat waiting for you there. Oh, how delightful, what could it be this time? You started to zone out climbing the stairs while thinking about the types of sugary foods you loved. But, your thoughts came to a stop when you were faced with the red-painted wooden door you knew oh so well. The numbers 102 were tacked on the front, made out of some dirty metal. 

102 was your favorite number.

You knocked four times, as you always did, waiting for a response. You shifted your weight eagerly from the front to the back, and back again, and again, and-

"Ah, I'm so sorry novia, I thought you were going to be here a bit later."

His voice was warm and cheerful, it never failed to make you happy. It was bright, just like the rest of him: his sparkling eyes, his glimmering hair, his sun-kissed skin. He was so...

"No, I'm sorry Antonio. I was just so excited to see you..." 

He smiled, forcing all of your doubts and awkwardness to melt away. Sometimes you figured that he must be magic to work such wonders on his surroundings.

"Don't worry about it. Come in, I've made churros."

You smiled back at him, and your speculations of what that delicious aroma wafting through the building could be clicked into place.

Churros! It was his favorite, it was your favorite, so of course he would make those!

You closed the door behind you, kicking your sandals on to the wood floor and eagerly taking a seat at the tiny dining table in the apartment. It had three chairs at it, all painted white with little green and yellow striped cushions on them that Laura had sewn. 

They were very comfortable; she was quite talented.

Antonio set down the plate of sweet desserts on the table, along with a small bowl of warm chocolate sauce you so adored. You wanted to eat it now, but he hadn't yet come back with the third piece of this mouth-watering puzzle.

He came up from behind you and set a glass of milk down beside your hands that were resting on the table. He then sat down himself, setting the other glass of milk in his hand down and looking at you expectantly.

You took one of the many pastries from the plate in dipped it in the smooth chocolate before biting down on it. You nearly moaned at the taste, and you were sure you looked like a little kid again, eyes full of wonder.

Antonio laughed at your expression and took one for himself, his smile never once faltering. He was so happy, and you were so happy with him. What could be better than that?

Well, the churros came close. Very close. But, not quite.

They were crunchy but soft at the same time and left a dusting of sugar on your lips to lick off. The chocolate was what really made them though; you could hardly imagine what they'd taste like without it.

(You could, as Antonio had made them with caramel before, but it paled in comparison to the churros accompanied with chocolate.)

There were only a few sticks left on the plate when the two of you decided you were done. You stood up, making the chair skid across the floor a bit, and quickly downed your glass of milk. Your legs subconsciously took you to the balcony; you had seen the beautiful late sunset out of the corner of your eye and couldn't help but walk to it.

You opened the glass door leading outside and stepped on to the platform. It was also made of stone, much like the rest of the outside of the apartment, and it felt very cool against your bare feet. The sky was much, much darker than when you had set out, but there was still an orange hue to everything. 

There was a bit of a breeze now, too, blowing your hair a bit and making you feel refreshed. Fewer people were out now, so the sound of cars was the main thing you heard. There was also a distinctive sound of music from far away, perhaps the same musician as before.

It wasn't loud, though. In fact, you'd go as far as to say that the noises were calming. 

An arm was wrapped around your shoulders, making you tilt your face to the side to see who it was. The answer was obvious, though.

He was incredible; you could hardly imagine your life right now without him. He was always there for you, ever since you met. It'd been tough back then, you were going through a rough patch of life and he was there to soothe your aching heart. You'd felt cold and alone then, he had made you feel warm again.

You rested your head against his shoulder, looking out at the fading sunlight in the sky. You were imagining your future, what you hoped it would be like, and who you hoped would be there with you.

Above everything, you hoped he'd be there.

"I want to marry you someday."