Read this and worship lord Doitsu! Credit goes to the Doitsuism wiki.

Fan fiction based on Hetalia. I do not own Hetalia. This is my first fan fiction.

An artist surrounded by wildlife, hated by the community she lives in except for the selected few. She searches for inspiration in the forest know as her back yard. What happens when she stumbles in to a certain Canadian or should I say he stumbles into her... even after she helps him , she's never given a name. causing the question to start to repeat in her mind 'who was that man?' warning there is spelling mistakes in this story unfortunately because of technical reasons with wattpad I can't change them.

A quick America x reader one-shot since today (the day I wrote this) is the 4th of July ^~^ I have decided to make this a fanfic I update annually. So at every 4th of July I'll update this :3 I might write each chapter through out the year so yeah XD enjoy what I have so far

Just writing lemons so don't hate on me

You are sad one day and Canada offers to cheer you up. WARNING LEMON!!

Maple syrup on pancakes is a sweet treat in the morning. Perhaps Canada's kind gesture of serving you breakfast in bed will turn into something even sweeter...

The American Revolution was brutal. Blood was shed left and right. The boy Arthur used to know was now as strong as he, and he could do nothing about it. Once the battle was won, Alfred had declaired himself as America. As he went off, leaving Britain behind, he constantly looked back. He would remember the fun times they had together; the laughs they shared with so much passion and heart. But those days were nothing now. America needed to create his own happy memories within his own Nation. Ever since that dark day, something dark festered within Alfred. Years and years went by and he tried desperately to surpress the evil, hiding it with a smile around his friends. As Alfred looked in the mirror, the only thing he could see was that aura of evil, which seemed to have formed into a humanization. As he observed it closer, he noticed the apperition looked exactly like him, but with a darker hint. Alfred was terrified and tried to run. But the other was just as fast. He glared at the Real America with scarlet eyes, his dark brown hair wavering in front of his face. As the imposter smiled, a single tooth had been missing. The bomber-jacket wardrobe and denum jeans remained the same, but the attitude differed completely. It wasn't long before the second Alfred had changed things. He kept the first Alfred in fear, threatening him constantly with his nail-embedded baseball bat; which had been blood-stained over time from innocent victims. And through those harsh years, Alfred learned-from Italy-about his other being. And Italy said: "They are called 2Ps; Second Players. They are the evil and mean versions of us, and they call us 1Ps; First Players". From that day forward, Allen, Alfred's 2P, had run his life like a dictator. But what was life like from the 2P's point of view?